


Keep Your Head Down and Count Your Blessings

by Jandroid



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Modern Boy in Thedas, Modern Character in Thedas, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ratings subject to change, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2018-09-21 12:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 60,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9549911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jandroid/pseuds/Jandroid
Summary: Kirkwall is a mess.  Between the rise in underground organizations and the surge in Fereldan refugees, a guy can hardly stand to make a living.Isaac was just trying to keep his head down and do his job when everything went to hell.Misfortune led him to Bethany’s door.  Survival instinct kept him by Hawke’s side.  But what happens when he starts to want more?  Will he risk what he has for what he wants?Sometimes it’s best to just count your blessings.Work is updated MondaysNo updates on every third Monday(Work undergoing edits over the whole)





	1. Headfirst Slide Into Lowtown on a Bad Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and welcome to this mess.  
> This is another of those angst-filled modern character in Thedas fics, because honestly they are so addictive to me.  
> So I thought I'd give writing one a shot.  
> All the usual suspects will be appearing in this work, but I'll not add their tags until they show up.  
> Comments and critiques are welcome and appreciated.  
> Thanks for giving this work a shot!

           “Thank you, thank you!” coins jingled in my overturned cap as I extended it before my audience. A few appreciative listeners tossed in one or two pieces, but mostly people walked on their way disinterested in supporting the trade of storytelling. I kept my showman’s smile on my face; carefully crafted to keep the disappointment away from my audience. _Fucking cheapskates._

            When the last of the crowd dispersed, I scooped the coins out of my hat and quickly shoved them into my pouch. I’d count them later; only a fool would go around counting money in broad daylight in the middle of Lowtown. And I fool I was not, unlike some of the customers who milled about the market stalls.

            A quick bump, a slight tug, and they were none the wiser to my sticky fingers. This was Kirkwall after all; no one in the city made their living honestly. If they made a living at all.

            My mark was a Lowtowner; not well off by any means, but a low-risk target that wasn’t likely to get me too much trouble. I followed her through the crowd, keeping a number of people between us. Every once and a while she stopped to glance at a stall or make a comment to either the merchant or the man she traveled with. People always felt so much safer in groups or pairs; but it just made them all the more likely to disregard their surroundings.

            Quickly I fell into rhythm seeing the patterns in her movement. She and her companion were practically nose deep on the potions table. I sped up, and casually adjusted my collar up and my hat down. On-coming pedestrians constricted mobility but worked wonders for cover. With a slight nudge and I slid my hand onto the woman’s coin purse.

            “Excuse me.” I apologized and kept moving, coin in hand. I picked up the pace once more, less and less concerned with who I might tip off and more concerned with putting a good distance from the poor saps. There was never a more nerve-racking moment than during a getaway. And nothing kicks in the adrenaline like hearing someone shout-

            “Thief!”

            Subtly be damned, as soon as I heard the word I broke into a mad-man’s sprint. It didn’t matter who I barreled into in the process, what mattered was the escape. So far, my record was in my favor, but I learned the hard way never to let overconfidence get in the way of survival. So, I ran. With all my might. Swaying off balance when the noble pedestrians tried to pull me down, but I kept my foot and made for Darktown. One poor fool ended up tumbling ass over kettle when he dove at me. And not once did I stop.

            I ran with an inappropriate smile stretching across my face; this was supposed to be a simple bump and grab. Then again, if my time here has taught me anything, nothing is simple in Thedas.

* * *

 

            The hideout in Darktown was small, dirty, and well, dark. A few ramshackle beds made from scrap and—well honestly, I really didn’t want to know what else—lined the stone carved walls. A few haphazard sconces blazed to illuminate the splendor of the Jackal’s keep. It was a shit barracks for a shit company.

            I practically fell face first onto my cot earning a nose full of the straw and horsehair that cushioned the mattress. At least the heaving of breath through my mouth kept the stench out of my nose. It was shit, but it was relatively safe, and it was home. I might have passed out right then and there if a rude boot hadn’t kicked my thigh.

            “Rent’s due.” The boot said with no illusions of kindness.

            “Ow. That’s not exactly the nicest way to treat your tenants. I might just seek lodging elsewhere.” I replied with as much sass as I could. I turned to look at the face connected to the boot. It didn’t look happy.

            “You could try, but we both know this is the bottom of the barrel and there’s no space for upward mobility.” If disinterested looks could kill… “Besides Isaac no one else would be willing to put you up with that attitude of yours.”  
            I scoffed. “Don’t I know it. Listen, I just got back from a job. Give me a second to see what I have for you.” He just held out a hand. “Oh, c’mon man, at least let me count it myself. I promise you’ll get a lovely share, and I’ll even throw the actual purse in for free. Burgundy is a great color on you after all.” The hand just beckoned until I relented and dumped the pouch into it.

            He scattered the coins in his palm counting it away from my view. He plucked five coppers from the mound and unceremoniously tossed them towards me. “Alright, there’s your take. We’re square for now.”

            “What?!” He shot a look at me when I shouted. I chuckled weakly recalculating. “Now, be reasonable here. You’re a fair and understanding man I can can’t live on five coppers from every take. Why don’t we sit down, count the money together, and decide on a fair price?”

            He gave me a blank stare. “You want fair? Or you want a bed?”

            I gave a drawn-out sigh as I dragged my hand over my face. “Bed.”

            “Good.” With that my crooked lessor took my crooked earnings and left me to my crooked cot.

            I wanted to shout after him. Call him every filthy name I could think of and then some. Instead, I slumped down on the mattress. “Git.” Thank the fucking Maker I shoved the coins from my performance into my inner pocket. I felt for them in the cloth, counting them without removing them. With the coppers Harimond spared for me I had made 12 in total. I could eat for another day or so, and I did have a bed but I couldn’t keep the frustration from gnawing at my bones. The indignity of it all was infuriating.

            But what was I supposed to do?

             I laid my head back and decided to catch some shut eye. The blanket scratched at my skin as I pulled it over. A blanket made of Rashvine might have been more comforting. I kept my boots on as I slept. Only crooks lived in Darktown and I didn’t make the same mistakes twice.

* * *

 

            “Fuck. Not again.” I kept my hand pressed against my wounded side, my other arm dangled limply from its socket. In hindsight, I should’ve known things were going to go south. Deals with the carta always did. I could have used my head when accepting jobs. I could have realized it was a trap when double the number of dwarves met us at the docks than we expected. I _should_ have turned tail when the first member reached for his broadsword.

            But, as common sense has never been my strong suit, I instead reached for my daggers and decided to launch into the fray. Like I thought I was some god damn hero. I suppose I had grown too lax in recent days. I hadn’t run into anything I couldn’t run or fight my way out of—I was arrogant. Worse than that, I was reckless.

            The group I ran with was a band of leeches and vultures that numbered among many within the gates of Kirkwall. The Jackals were nothing if not greedy fools and god dammit if I wasn’t one of them. Our leader was growing tired of being second—or more honestly third—rate and decided to forge an alliance with some of the big players in the carta. Unfortunately, the carta has a long memory and weren’t quite ready to forgive us for swiping one of their lesser shipments a few months back.

            If only he wasn’t so damn shortsighted, then I wouldn’t be limping towards the bowels of the city in the moonlight. Well, I guess I should take some of the blame there. I never did know when to fucking quit.

            I ran with all the force I could push into my legs. Some of my comrades were still fighting; keeping most of the carta assassins busy while I made my escape. They were not worth dying for. I cringed at the sting of my torn muscles but forced myself to move forward. Blood painted my hand red, it’s coppery smell overpowered my senses. My other arm hanging limply at my side.

            I didn’t care, didn’t stop. I needed to get away. I couldn’t die there, not after everything. I’d be damned if a couple of thugs would be what finally did me in. That would just be fucking stupid.

            Soon I could see the steps that led into Darktown, I could lose my tail in the caverns. And if the winding paths weren’t enough to give them the slip I could always find some refuse to hide me. As I sprinted for the stairs an arm caught me in the chest knocking me prone. Dazed and with a new bloom of pain I tried to roll over and caught a glimpse of my new attacker. Human, but dressed in Carta garb; she smiled down at me like a cat with a mouse.

            “I don’t think my friends were done with you.” She purred as she held a sword to my throat. “Don’t be so rude.”

            I risked a glance from the corner of my eyes backwards to see how close the rest of the group was only to have my attention pulled back by the flat of her blade pushing my chin up. “Don’t worry, they’ll get here soon enough.”

            Heart pounding and mind racing, I scrambled internally to escape, to think of some plan but the blade was too close, my killer too confident. With no other options, I threw out my last wild card and screamed from the top of my lungs for help. My attacker was caught off guard for a second, maybe less, but it was enough time me to push the blade away from my throat and knock her off her feet.

            With all the speed and force I could muster I balled my bloodied fist and slammed my fist into her jaw before picking myself up and turning tail away from the stairs. Luckily my surprise attack dazed my opponent enough to give me the head start I needed. I dashed for Lowtown, willing myself just a little father with each step.

            Everything hurt. My side. My dislocated shoulder. My hand—both from the awkwardness of the punch as well as cut that striped from when I pushed the sword away. In my pained confusion, I took a wrong turn and cornered myself. The entrance of the alienage stood before me. The elves wouldn’t risk themselves just to save one human. Knowing that there was nowhere for me to hide down there I desperately searched for another way to go.

            I swiveled to go back the way I came but the sound of clanging armor stopped me and made my blood run cold. Frantically I looked for an alley or something I might hide in, but found nothing. My only options were to look towards the houses. I ran up the closest stairs and proceeded to bang the wooden door.

            “Please let me in!” I shouted. My bloodied hand painting splotches on the wood. “They’re going to kill me please!” I kept repeating that until a voice inside shouted to leave. They didn’t want any of my trouble.

            My chest tight, I ran to the next house and did the same. No response. I was running out of time. “Please, help me! I don’t want to die!” I began to collapse at the door; fear and pain controlled my entire being. I felt hope slip away just before I fell slightly forward as the door opened a crack. A pair of sympathetic eyes looked down on me. The door opened wider when the eyes noticed all the blood and the pitiful look on my face. I pushed my way into the home, collapsing before a young woman.

            “Maker!” she exclaimed. “Brother! Brother, come quick!”

            Relief took root as I was pulled all the way through and the door shut behind me. I couldn’t see clearly. My vision darkened as all the tension in my body released. I didn’t care how I looked sprawled out on the wooden floor. I was safe.

            “It’s ok now, you’re going to be alright.” The woman assured me. As I tried to focus my eyes on here I noticed her face was…familiar…but from where?

            “Bethany, are you sure you want to do this? If the Templars…” A man’s voice interjected. “We could take him to Anders.”

            “There’s no time, besides do you really want to hobble around Darktown with an injured man while his attackers are still out there.” There was silence for a moment as she waited for a reply. Then her voice turned to me. “Just lie still. You’re alright.” As she turned me on my back I saw her and her brother a little clearer. A cool wave of green energy wafted over me and I felt immediately soothed. Breathing came easier and I remembered where I had seen this girl. She was the one from Lowtown. I had stolen from her and she had just saved my life. In another circumstance I might have laughed. If there was a Maker, he sure did have a sense of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited as of 1/22/2018


	2. Like the Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone, thank you so much for reading, and a special thanks to those who left a Kudos.
> 
> Again, any comments or critiques are welcome and appreciated.
> 
> Thanks!

            I slept better than I had in weeks. My blanket seemed less coarse—bordering on soft—and even my mattress seemed less lumpy than normal. I inhaled deeply as I stirred.

            My eyes shot open when I smelled not the familiar stench of Darktown but something lighter. The walls surrounding me were unfamiliar and claustrophobic. Where I had expected to see one long, dank corridor I found a small room with only three beds at most.

            In a panic, I tried to sit up and regretted it almost immediately. “Fuck!” I shouted as I winced in pain. I was no longer bleeding, but my side was still raw and sore. Instinctively I pulled my arm to my side. It twinged slightly as the realization dawned on me that I could move it again. It must have been set some time in the night.

            “What? What is it?” A concerned female voice asked. Soon the woman was by my side. Her hazel eyes rich with empathy.

            “Beth, watch yourself.” A man put his hand on her shoulder. He had the same dark hair and eyes as his sister, though his concern was cast in a different direction.

            “Oh hush.” She shut him down lightly tapping his hand away.

            “I’m just saying, he could be a loony. What would dear uncle Gamlen say if we let a madman into his home?”

            “Probably the same thing he said when you first walked in.” She retorted before once again returning her attention to me. I didn’t say anything. It was all so confusing. “My Name is Bethany and this is my brother Garrett.”

            “And you are?” Garrett drawled lazily.

            I blinked once or twice, more of last night’s events seemed to return. These two had saved me from the Carta. “Isaac.” I finally replied.

            “Isaac.” Bethany sighed in relief. “Do you remember anything from last night?”

            “Particularly when you slammed yourself against our door and painted it a rather morbid color in the middle of the night?” Garrett teased earning a gentle swat on the arm from his sister. He responded by flicking a strand of her hair.

            “Right, yeah sorry about that.” I shrugged. “Desperate times.” I struggled to keep my composure. The Carta had tried to kill me last night, had most likely succeeded in killing the others. And now I sat being healed by a mage in the least mage friendly city in all of Thedas.

            “So.” Bethany started.

            After a beat, I was curious. “So?”

            “So, why were you being chased last night?” She asked almost clinically.

            “Oh, well you know how Kirkwall can be at night. No lack of cutthroats and brigands.” I tried chuckling nonchalantly and regretted it pretty immediately. My gut was no longer sliced open, but that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt.

            “Yes, that’s why we all make a point of traipsing through Lowtown under the moonlight. I myself lament that my busy schedule keeps me from such leisurely strolls.” Garrett’s words dripped with sarcasm and mistrust.

            I stared at him blankly, before ignoring him completely and turning my attentions to his sister. “I know my situation was foolish, but let me just say how thankful I am to you. You, my dear lady, saved my life.” I let the charm flow from my tongue, each honeyed word as practiced as a musician’s instrument. “I could never hope to repay this debt to you.”

            A light blush flowered on her cheeks. “Well it was the right thing to do.” She smiled. “Would you mind me checking your wound? We managed to stop the bleeding, but if we’re not careful it may get infected.”

            “Uh, sure.” I pulled the blanket away from myself and gave her access to my bandaged side. Carefully she undid the wrapping, handing the bits of scrap to her brother as she worked.

            “Huh.” She sounded surprised. “This looks a lot better than I thought it would.” My flesh was mostly scabbed over. Gingerly Bethany prodded the wound and asked me for my reactions.

            “Well, it hurts when I move too much, ah-” I winced again as she touched a particularly tender spot. “Balls, that stings.”

            “Sorry.” Bethany recoiled her hand. “Honestly, I was just surprised, this wound was life threatening yesterday.”

            I blinked at her. “Yeah, but you used magic on it.” I said matter-of-factly. She was the mage; didn’t she know how it worked?

            Both Garrett and Bethany tensed, I got the feeling they both hoped I was too delirious last night to remember that part. When she finally spoke, it was slowly. “Yes, but there’s no reason it should have been that effective. I only used enough to stop the bleeding.”

            “I’m sure it looked worse than it was. I am known to have a flair for the dramatics.” I suggested, hoping that would satisfy their curiosity.

            “Perhaps.” Garrett didn’t seem convinced. “Beth, why don’t you get some new bandages for our guest. I can keep him entertained. I think Gamlen might have some elfroot lying around somewhere too.”

            “Alright, I’ll just be a moment.” She stood and left the room, leaving me lying exposed before her suspicious brother. Garrett watched the door until he was certain Bethany was out of earshot. Then he put his arm around my shoulder and leaned in close.

            “Now, I don’t care what in the Maker’s name you were doing last night. I don’t care who was after you and flames, I don’t even care who you are. But what I do care about is my sister. She took a big risk helping you and I’d hate for her random act of kindness to come back in a negative way. You understand? It’d be a real shame for all of Bethany’s hard work to be undone just because someone had loose lips.”

            The threat was obvious, and in Kirkwall not unwarranted. That being said I’d like to think of myself as the kind of person who wouldn’t sell their savior out to the Templars. “Yeah, no, no worries man. My wound wasn’t even that deep. Elfroot really does work wonders, yeah?” I stopped speaking before the nervous chuckle in my throat escaped. Internally, I cursed my lack of composure.

            “Wonderful.” Garrett pulled away with a beaming smile across his face as if he hadn’t just threatened to kill me. He’d do well playing the Game in Orlais. I needed to do better.

            When Bethany returned, her brother beamed about our blossoming friendship and she applied a fresh poultice. She recommended that I stay another night before risking anything. I sat up to protest but slumped back down before I could make the argument. Magic healing or no, getting stabbed hurt like a mother.

            Around this time, I realized that it was actually very early in the day. That and there were two other people living in the house. Eventually I was introduced to Gamlen, Bethany and Garrett’s uncle, and their mother Leandra. Gamlen, who I found out was the owner of the house, was not happy to hear I would be sleeping over again. Our introductions were brief and ended with him scuttling off and murmuring about “damn freeloaders.”

            Leandra on the other hand was more like her daughter, cautious but gracious. And much more susceptible to my own brand of charm. She told me how she and her children had lived in Fereldan but were displaced by the blight. She didn’t go into detail but I got the feeling she lost someone to it. The reason they came to Kirkwall at all was because Leandra was once a noble here.

            “Messere, I thought you carried a noble air about yourself. Even toiling on harsh Fereldan lands hasn’t tarnished that.” Nobles always enjoyed such flattery, even former ones.

            She beamed, as expected. “That’s kind of you to say Isaac. But what about you? Have you always lived in Kirkwall?”

            There it was, always the question. I inhaled deeply and did what I always did, I spun a story. That was what I was good at after all. This time I was from the Anderfels. “My parents were servants to a lesser noble and I was raised practically a brother to the lord’s young son. Unfortunately, a sickness spread claiming my parents and the noble’s son. He all but adopted me and sent me to Ostwick for schooling. But the noble too perished, while I was away, and I was stricken from his will by his spiteful relatives. On my way, back I ran out of money in Kirkwall. I have stayed to work ever since.”

            “Oh my! Such a tale!” Leandra exclaimed when I had finished.

            “Yeah, it really is something.” Garrett rolled his eyes. “Something out of a story book.”

            “Garrett Malcom Hawke, you do not make light of his misfortune!” Leandra scolded.

            Her son visibly flinched at that, muttering a soft apology to placate her more than makes amends to me.

            “No, Serah, it’s alright. I understand your son’s misgivings about me. We hardly met under the most mundane circumstances. I’m sure we’ll become fast friends.”

            Leandra sighed. Garrett excused himself to make tea, possibly as a peace offering for his mother. We made polite conversation for an hour or so before Leandra had to leave to run some errands. Gamlen had left somewhere before; not sparing a word to anyone. And so, it was that I came to be alone with the siblings once more.

            “Well, at least one good thing comes of your visit.” Garrett said leaning against the door frame. Bethany and I both gave him blank looks. “Did you see Uncle Gamlen’s face? His shriveled face looked just about to burst like a grape!”

            “Oh, Gamlen needs to be more compassionate.” Bethany exhaled a heavy breath. “We really are lucky he didn’t turn us away a year ago. I don’t know what we would have done.”

            Garrett chuckled. “Please, mother would never stand for that. If he tried to send us away she’d grab him by the breeches and lead him about like a child.”

            The two went on about their family, more talking to each other rather than telling me. After a while I grew tired of it and pretended to drift to sleep. It took them another few minutes to take the hint before they left me alone in the quiet room. And in the silence, I really did fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> Have a lovely day!
> 
> (Edits: 1/22/17)


	3. Blinding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some fighting today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who left a Kudos!  
> I know things are moving slow, but we're getting closer to stuff happening.  
> Thanks for sticking around.  
> As always any comments and critiques are appreciated.

 

            “I’m surprised there’s not more of a scar.” I said, lifting my shirt slightly and admiring my now healed wound.

            “You almost sound disappointed.” Bethany giggled from the other side of the door. She had left the room to allow me privacy to change.

            “Well, maybe not disappointed, but now no one will believe this was nearly a fatal wound! They’ll think I’ve exaggerated my daring escape like a big fish story.” The indignation in my voice carried well between the door.

            “And if we can’t have honest story tellers in this day and age we are all of us truly lost.” Garrett rolled his eyes. He was facing away from me at the other side of the room. But eyes rolled. I could tell.

            “Garrett, my friend I just don’t know how you’ll get on without me.” I put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I really feel like something grew between us these past two days.” Finally, I felt whole again and it was putting me in a jovial, if not foolish mood. “Come now you must let me buy you a pint for old time’s sake.”

            Garrett actually laughed at that. “Could you even afford it? I have a feeling that if we went out drinking I’d end up footing the bill.”

            “How rude, Serah. I’ll have you know that on my person I have…” I dug around in my pockets for effect. “Well, it looks like nothing at all. You were right. But you didn’t know for sure I had nothing when I offered.”

            “Ha, I had a feeling.”

            “You probably shouldn’t start drinking so soon.” Bethany called from the door. “Your wound may be mostly healed but you shouldn’t aggravate it even still.”

            “You hear that old chap, can’t step into the tavern. Doctor’s orders. Guess we have a raincheck then.” I elbowed Garrett in the side; not to hurt, just to be annoying.

            “Maker, I hope it rains forever.” Garrett said under his breath, had I not been train to I might not have caught it. I let it go all the same.

            Fully dressed and feeling fresh I opened the door to Bethany. “How do I look?” I beamed a smile.

            “Much better.” Bethany smiled back.

            “Yes, all that blood really wasn’t doing you any favors. Red really isn’t your color.” Garrett said aloofly as he slid passed me into the main room. Unlike my simple shirt and pants he had dressed in worn leather armor; a sword and shield lay strapped to his back.

            “Where are you headed brother?” Bethany turned to follow Garrett.

            “Running a job for Aveline. She got word of something but her captain won’t let her pursue it. Varric’s coming along too. Oh, and Isabella. She overheard me asking Varric to help and decided to invite herself.”

            “I’m sure Aveline’s going to love that.” Bethany rolled her eyes slightly. (So, it was a familial trait.) She waved her brother off then seemed to remember I was in the room. She apologized and explained who they were talking about. Aveline was a guard in the city and the woman who escaped Fereldan with them. Varric a dwarf of the merchant’s guild who was looking the bring them in on some business deal. She didn’t elaborate, but that was understandable. Matters involving money should be kept private. Isabella was a Rivani pirate who the siblings had helped out of a bind a month or so ago. Apparently ever since she had inserted herself in their lives and had become quite the regular drinking and wicked grace companion.

            “I think she would like you.” Bethany said with laughter in her voice. Confused, I asked her why. The best reasoning, she could give were a few vague gestures. Any words seemed to stop red on her cheeks rather than actually forming.

            I laughed good-naturedly. “I suppose I’ll just have to see for myself then.”

            “Well, if you’d like you could always stop by the Hanged Man, but not to drink.” She adopted a motherly stance and tone.

            I put up my arms defensively, still smiling. “Don’t worry, I know. Still too soon.”

            “Right. Varric has a game of Wicked Grace going just about every week, if you’d like to join.”

            “I might.” I said noncommittally.

            “Oh, I nearly forgot!” Bethany dashed off into a back room. “Stay right there!” she called back. She came back with a small basket in her arms, it was covered with a faded red cloth. “Mother and I made you a small lunch. She insisted we not send you off empty handed.”

            Genuinely taken by surprise I took the basket. “Bethany, thank you. This is wonderful.” The most honest smile I had had in a long while stretched my lips.

            A blight blush colored Bethany’s face and ears like pastel dust. “Oh, it’s nothing really, honestly I wish we could do more for you. I understand how hard it is to making in Kirkwall. Without my family…I don’t…” She didn’t finish.

            “This is more than I deserve. Truly, thank you.”

            Her blush darkened to pure pigment. “You’re welcome. Please be careful out there. This city if full of people looking to exploit others. Especially foreigners. Just the other day I had my coin purse stolen in broad daylight! Just in the Lowtown Markets!”

            My heart skipped a beat. “That’s awful. Did they catch the thief?”

            Bethany sighed. “No. But we were lucky in that I had already spent most of it before it was taken. Maker, though I swear Garrett was angrier than I was. He was shouting and chasing the thief all through the markets.”

            In the time I spent with the Hawkes I had nearly forgotten. The basket hung in my arms like a heavy weight. My guilt seemed to take solid form.

            “Apparently, he tried tackling the thief but ended up crashing into some nearby barrels.” She was giggling now. “Really the whole thing was a mess. All that over a handful of copper at best.”

            I resumed my rehearsed smile. “What a sight that must have been. But, I’m sorry that all happened.”

            “Oh, don’t worry. It was a loss, but it could have been much worse.”

            “It’s always charming to meet an optimist.” I slid my feet into my boots. “Bethany, thank you again, for everything.”

            “You’re welcome Isaac. I hope to see you again, so don’t be a stranger alright?”

            “Alright.” I chuckled waving as I left. I sauntered down the stairs, basket in hand. The well-worn smile on my face fading. The Lowtown markets were as bustling as ever; I made my way through the crowds slinking like a snake. A snake; that’s what I was. I chuckled darkly to myself; how apt.

* * *

 

            I’d like to say I was the kind of guy to right wrongs where I saw them. I’d like to say that after being saved, sheltered, and fed by the Hawkes I raced to Darktown to retrieve Bethany’s money. I’d like to tell a lot of lies about myself. But, no I didn’t do anything. I slithered back down, found my cot, and went to sleep. Honestly the best thing I could do for Bethany now was just to stay away from her entirely.

            Harimond raised his eyebrow at me when I finally came back, but said little more than snide comments about my miraculous survival. Of course, everyone in the guild thought I had something to do with the Carta attack now. I guess that’s what happens when you disappear for a couple days and come back with barely a scar.

            But other than paranoid suspicions of course, no one had any proof that I was a rat so things went back to normal. Mostly.

            He only tossed me menial jobs now that I was considered suspicious by just about everyone. They paid little but were easier than other things I had to do. Much lower risk than Carta deals or shipment interception. Since I was still in recovery I was very glad for that.

            A week went by and I kept my head down and endeavored not to rock the boat. Picked a pocket here, eavesdropped there. I didn’t risk my usual con. For some reason, it didn’t seem like a good idea to tell tales while being surrounded on all sides. I told myself it was from the stress of the carta fight. The lingering terror of being cornered.

            I wish I could believe that. But at that point self-preservation had taken over. All else was abandoned for its sake. I still felt terrible for stealing from Bethany; a part of me wanted to go out and make some grand gesture to redeem myself, but I couldn’t risk myself by indulging in guilt. Hell, I even stopped being a smartass to Harimond.

            While I was working my way back into the guild’s good graces, fate once again set its sights on me. Just when I thought things would return to normal the world spat in my face.

            “Shit.” Another guild member—Finch—swore. Finch was a decent sort. Well as decent as Darktown scum can be. She was an elf that fell out with her family and left the alienage to make her own way. When she slept in the Jackals’ Keep she took the bed beside my own. We had a good rapport, even during the past week.

            “What’s up Tweety Bird?” I kept my tone jovial.

            “Fuck off Isaac; not now.” She hissed.

            “Woah, sorry Finch.” I backed off. As I turned to leave her alone she grabbed my wrist.

            “Shit, no. Sorry Isaac, I’m just—fuck—really stressed.” She took a deep breath. “And that stupid nickname doesn’t help.”

            “Yeah, sure. No worries.” I expected her to release my arm. She didn’t. I waited for her to say something but all she did was stare at the ground.

            “So, did you want to talk about it or are you just working up the courage to ask for my hand in marriage?”

            She chuckled at the floor. It sounded forced. “I’m in trouble Isaac.” She finally spoke. “Real trouble.” Finally relinquishing my hand, she began to nervously pick at the skin on her fingers. “Can we go somewhere with less ears?”

            “Uh, sure.” Caught off-guard I agreed. Finch wasn’t the type to ask for help. She was the kind to take everything in stride and handle it all on her own. She wasn’t in the business of owing favors. It was what made her on the Jackals’ most valuable agents. For that reason, I felt mental flags raising. Why would she need me, one of the guild’s least trusted members, for help? Something was definitely off; she hadn’t look at me since she came into the room. I knew something was off; I knew but I followed her all the same. I didn’t want to tip my hand.

            “Sure, where did you have in mind?” I wore my most convincing sympathetic smile.

            Finch led me into the sewers. Because of course she did. She moved with paranoid precision. For all her abilities and combat prowess, Finch was no spy. Her erratic movement betrayed her nerves and her tendency to form emotional connections ruined any chance of keeping any semblance of neutrality.

            Once again, I found myself grateful for my experience in playing the Game. As wretched a place as Orlais was my time there proved time and time again invaluable. The ability to read people was likely how I stayed alive as long as I did.

            “So, I think we’re probably away from all the Darktown gossips. Want to tell me what all this is about?” I tested.

            “Just a bit farther.” She replied curtly. I could practically hear her teeth grinding. That was not a good sign.

            As she led me further down the dank corridors, I was silently mapping our path. If nothing else I was confident in my ability to remember an escape route.

            Eventually Finch led me far enough and we entered an atrium-like chamber. Including the path, we had come from it had four adjoining tunnels that led in opposite directions. It was also filled with ears.

            I whistled and coolly remarked, “Tweety, I think your definition of privacy and mine are rather different.” I looked over the thugs in the room. They were armed and armored to the teeth. For a moment, Finch looked shocked by my reaction until understanding and finally shame forced her head back to the stone.

            “Now, now, don’t be so hard on—what was it you called her? Tweety?” One of the thugs stepped forward. I recognized his face, but couldn’t place a name. He had a mean face and a nose that looked like it had been broken again and again over the years and never had the chance to set right. “See Isaac,” Nose continued. “Finch here was just following orders. And honestly so are we.” His men stood at attention. “Boss thinks you’re a liability.”

            Suddenly two figures appeared behind me. I just managed to dodge away from them unfortunately rolling farther into the center of the atrium. Barely two arms-lengths away from Nose. He pulled two hand axes from his back as he readied for battle. The curve of his blades matched that of his teeth.

            Finch dashed to the walls behind him. I readied my daggers to parry; when the blows came I barely had the strength to redirect them away from myself. In an attempt to escape the fray, I dropped to the ground and rolled to the side; escaping Nose and the two rogues but nearly colliding with another thug. Luckily, this one was slower and less coordinated than Nose. Dodging him was easy and left me with spare time to assess my situation.

            Including finch and my previously mentioned assailants there were a total of seven aggressors. One of the rogues had puts his blades away in favor of a short bow. I stood in from of the slow thug and waited for the right moment. As I rolled away the arrow soared through where I had been standing and continued on its path straight into Slow’s shoulder. He let out a loud cry of pain as the arrowhead imbedded itself firmly in his muscle.

            “Watch your fire!” Nose called out angrily. “He’s a slippery worm!”

            Slow must have had a low pain tolerance, because once he slumped to his knees he refused to get back up again. Honestly, he might have passed out from the shock of it; I wasn’t sure. The friendly firing archer looked shaken by his mistake; he notched another arrow, keeping it trained on me, but did nothing more.

            Somewhere by the corridor to my left, Finch had found a bow. Behind me the two rogues stood ready to block any attempts to flee and during the chaos another thug moved to block the right doorway. That left only the tunnel straight ahead unmanned. Unfortunately, that didn’t make a difference as the arch was collapsed and the path blocked.

            I parried and blocked as best I could, all the while my mind was working like a beehive. The right guard carried a large maul and stood with shoulders nearly as wide as the exit he defended. Going after him would likely—and literally—get me crushed so I decided not that way.

            If only the one bowman guarded the original entrance I would have barreled passed him and return down my prepared escape route. I doubted that the dagger wielder would make things easy for me. I could take them both, but not with enough time to escape Nose’s blade.

            I made a mistake. Too wrapped up in my own mind I let the thug with a sword and shield get too close and he managed to graze my leg. Shield and Nose took turns hounding me; lunging and slashing in perfect rotation. They were starting to wear me down.

            Finch caught my attention from the corner of my eyes and a sudden realization hit me. She hadn’t taken a single shot at me since the fighting started. If she wanted to, she could hit me. She was used to fighting in close quarters; she wouldn’t miss like the other bowman. So why hadn’t she fired?

            The chance was there and I took it. Trying not to think about what I was grabbing, I scooped up some of the sludge from under my feet and tossed it into Shield’s eyes. Before he could reorient himself, I landed a kick square into his shield and knocked him into Nose causing them both to lose their balance. Taking advantage of the unexpected maneuver, I dashed at Finch. She was taken aback by my ferocity and her grip loosened as she flinched away from me. I slashed my dagger, severing her bowstring, before shoving my whole weight into her and barreling passed her.

            Behind me, Nose was shouting at his men to stop me, shoot me—something! But I was too fast and was already beginning to disappear around corners. I gave chase through the sewers taking turns at random hoping to lose my pursuers. Unfortunately, it had the effect of further disorienting myself. I had no fucking clue where under Kirkwall I was.

            I wasn’t wandering blindly for long as in front of me I heard the sounds of battle. The footsteps of Nose’s group were still behind me so I knew that this was something else. Perhaps, I thought, I could lose my hunters in the chaos of another fight. It seemed like the only viable option so I followed the sound and soon found its source.

            Once they were in sight I almost immediately regretted my decision. But with no other options I continued on. In front of me—in a room not unlike the one Finch led me to—were two factions. One seemed to comprise of eight people with two mages seemingly in charge. The other was a smaller group, only half the number of the former, and they were led by none other than my once savior Garrett Hawke.

            I don’t know if he saw me enter the chamber, but we didn’t have time for a friendly reunion. The mages, however were completely aware of my presence. I cursed my foul luck that I had to enter the room on their side. One of the mages immediately reacted and sent a bolt of fire my way; it caught the tail end of my jacket as I moved out of the way.

            The mage cursed and shouted something at Garrett, but I couldn’t hear it. My ears were ringing. The next thing to happen made me truly believe that the Maker had it out for me. The other mage unsheathed a small dagger and shoved it into the neck of one of her warriors. His blood spurted before floating back towards the mages arms. She said some kind of enchantment as she raised a being made of fire and fury from the depths of the earth.

            To my surprise none of the other warriors seemed to care that their boss was bleeding their compatriots like stuck pigs. They just kept hounding Garrett’s group as if they were in a trance.

            Behind me, Nose was catching up. Finding myself stuck between a rock and a hard place, I endeavored to join Hawke’s side. One of the mages was still chucking fire at me as one of their warriors slashed at me as I circumvented the room. I tossed one of my small throwing daggers at the mage hitting him square in the throat before sliding under the warrior’s blade and slashing him deep in the thigh. Both tumbled down like rocks.

            The thugs had entered the chamber at this point and caught the attention of the rage demon. They were caught bottlenecked in the tunnel and the demon seemed to be making quick work of them. Garrett and his crew managed to take out another four warriors leaving only one and the blood mage standing. The last fighter was caught in a standoff with Hawke while his companions rushed to his side.

            I made it there first and planted my dagger firmly in the man’s back between where his neck met his ribcage. He spattered blood onto Garrett’s face before falling and revealing my helpful intervention.

            From behind the blood he looked at me with surprise. “Isaac?”

            “Hey, Garrett. I was in the neighborhood.” I flashed a smile, adrenaline making it twitchier than I’d like.

            “What? I—” He started before once of his companions, a dwarf, interrupted.

            “Hawke! Catch up later we’ve going in coming!”

            The blood mage jerked erratically and howled with inhuman sound. The tunnel behind her glowed with the fury of her summoned pet. Before long it returned to her side with bloody claws and teeth.

            The dwarf fired bolt after bolt from the oddest crossbow I had ever seen. From behind him a fireball flew towards the blood mage. Hawke had a mage of his own. He dashed headfirst towards the demon barreling into it with his shield. As he did a woman in the least protective outfit I have ever seen appeared out of the shadows stabbing the creature in the back.

            I tried to do my part and tossed a couple more daggers, but honestly the four worked together like an oiled machine. I felt like more of a hindrance than anything else. Before long the demon was defeated and with no other allies the mage could only stave off death for so long.

            When the fighting was over and the dust had settled, Garrett looked at me with no less confusion than before. With a renewed sense of life, I flashed him a wide smile. “We really must stop meeting like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits: 1/22/2018


	4. Good Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's taken an interest so far!  
> As of posting this chapter, this little work has reached just over a hundred hits!  
> That is seriously awesome.  
> Thank you.

            To say my boots were wrecked would be an understatement. Funnily enough, trudging through the literal bowels of Kirkwall had the most expected outcome you could imagine. It was for that reason that I felt like the luckiest son of a bitch in the world when I found one of the mages to share my shoe size and not my hygiene.

            “So, Hawke,” The dwarf started while I continued looting. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

            “I’m Isaac.” I shouted still facing away from the group before Hawke had the opportunity to speak up. “Garrett and I are old friends.”

            The dwarf and the mage questioned the “old friends” claim, while the woman fixated on “Garrett”. Judging by the sigh that escaped his lungs, his friends must have given Garrett quite the look.

            “No, we aren’t old friends. I met him, maybe a week ago?” He walked beside me, I was still crouched and rifling in pockets. “And please just call me Hawke. Only my mother and sister call me by my first name.”

            “What, even Gamlen calls you Hawke?” The Dwarf asked positively bemused.

            “It’s an improvement trust me. For the first six months we lived with him, he refused to call me anything other than ‘boy’ or ‘hey you, don’t touch that’.” Hawke replied with a degree of mirth. It vanished when his attention turned back to me. “Isaac was the one responsible for the fresh coat of paint on Gamlen’s door.”

            “And Garrett and his lovely sister were generous enough to shelter me for the evening. True heroes the both of them.” I finished the story wondering if I should add a tear or two at the end. No, that would come off heavy handed. Instead I placed both my hands over my heart. Moved by the heroics of it all.

            By this time, I finished looting both of the mages; I was already a pair of boots richer along with a couple of coin pouches and an ornate dagger I had gotten from the blood mage. Ironically the hilt of which was gilded and engraved with images of Andraste and her holy flames. The Maker was a regular comedian; apparently.

            A small, stubby hand caught my attention from my spoils. “Varric Tethras,” the dwarf introduced himself. “Must be quite a story that led you down into Kirkwall’s sewers.”

            Before I shook his hand, I tried to clean myself slightly with my jacket. “Oh, just a bit of this and a bit of that.”

            That got a chuckle rising out of the Dwarf’s hairy chest. “Is that all? If casual strolls through the sewers ever became mundane to me, I might rethink what I was doing with my life a little.”

            Smiling back, I replied in good humor. “Oh, I don’t know, it has some great prices on secondhand boots.” I lifted my pickings in example.

            This time the woman was the one to let out a full laugh. “Oh, we do all our shopping from maleficars and corpses. Maybe we should take you the next time there’s a topside sale. The deals are to die for.”

            “Isabella!” The mage chided. Hawke just remained silent with his head held in his hand.

            “Oh, lighten up spoilsport. These ugly sods would have just as quickly looted our corpses.”

            “That doesn’t make it right.”

            In response Isabella simply chuffed and dug through one of the warriors’ belongings until she produced a small vile containing a red liquid. “Are you saying you don’t want any of these for your little clinic then? Because I’m sure Bonny would pay a pretty bit for this.”

            “Isabella stop teasing Anders.” Hawke pinched his brows.

            “Yes, dad.” The woman rolled her eyes like a teenager before tossing the potion into the mages hands.

            “Thanks, Hawke.” Anders gave and appreciative smile. He switched gears quickly. “Before we go trudging through this slop again does anyone have anything that needs healing? It would get infected pretty quickly if we don’t treat it now.”

            Everyone looked themselves over and seemed to find no injuries. I shook my head, still crouching beside the bodies.

            “Kid’s bleeding.” Varric pointed out helpfully. I looked down at the gash on my thigh, it didn’t look too serious but it might take a couple stitches. The pants, however—cut along the thigh and covered in blood and sewage—were a lost cause. Another brave article of clothing lost to the dangers of battle.

            “Just a scratch.” I countered.

            “Let me see, I could close the wound at the very least.” Anders offered.

            “No, really it’s fi-” as I stood to back away, a pained wince betrayed my lie. “Shit, fine.”

            The mage sighed like he was used to dealing with unwelcoming patients. “Just sit down and let me take a look.”

            “It’s better to just do as he says. Anders can be more insistent than Bethany sometimes.” Hawkes palm landed on my shoulder and encouraged me to sit. With no other options, I bit my lip and did as I was told.

            Peeling pack the ripped fabric, Anders frowned in concentration. Soon a hand glowing with pale green light hovered above the wound. Instantly any pain I felt vanished and within moments the wound closed itself healing completely.

            “That…worked better than it should have.” Anders contemplated out loud.

            “Really? I think it just looked uglier than it was.” I deflected. “Told you it was just a scratch. Thanks for sealing it though.”

            Before Anders could counter Isabela called out from the doorway I had come from. “Got a few other sods over here. Demon made quick work of them.” Her nose scrunched in disgust.

            I followed Hawkes group into the corridor to investigate. The hall was dark but Anders lit a small ball of fire in his hand to light the way some. What we found was enough to make me gag. Nose and his band had been massacred by the demon; it was hard to tell how many of them there were originally, they were in so many pieces.

            “Were they friends of yours?” Hawke asked somberly.

            I scanned the scene. Counting. They were all there. Every last one of them. All Except Finch.

            “Nope.” I didn’t elaborate and to their credit none of Hawkes crew pried. Well not about the bodies anyway. Isabela fired question after question each veiled in curiosity and innuendo. Varric would have been content to get my tale of the sewers but when I didn’t comply entertained himself by asking about my life’s story. I gave him a few stories to repeat, none of them were mine but they seemed to placate if not fool the dwarf.

            I left with their group after we finished looting the rest of the bodies. “Shouldn’t let it go to waste.” Hawke said. I was just thankful he didn’t ask me to give up what I had already taken. Though Isabela was a little jealous of the Andrastian dagger.

            We took a different path out than I had taken in and I was immensely grateful for that. There was no telling whether or not Finch or anyone else from the guild—or any other group for that matter—might be lurking in the passages. I doubted it, but I felt safer at least entertaining the possibility until I was at the surface.

         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits: 1/22/2018


	5. Billy Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for reading!

            The second time Hawke saved my life, I took it as a sign from the Maker himself. It only seemed natural at that point to stick to him and his group like glue; just to make sure my dumb luck stuck. For a Fereldan native with a penchant for busy-bodying, the man had an uncanny ability to come out on top. Not to mention it did my conscience some good to have his back after he had mine.

            I fell in step with his crew fairly quickly, they all seemed to have storied pasts that led them to cross paths with Hawke one way or another, so my inclusion didn’t strike any off cords. The day after the incident in the sewers I was officially invited to a game of wicked grace—this time by the good master Tethras. I don’t think Hawke was too happy when I agreed, but to his credit he did swallow his pride and admit that I had helped against the blood mage and her thralls.

            I had my foot in the door and for the moment no one seemed poised to crush it. Now I just had to assure a place at Hawke’s table; he was the type to take care of his own. I just needed to convince them I was one of them.

            I had been in the Hanged man on one or more occasion before I met the Hawkes. My initial evaluation of that bar was that it smelled nearly as rancid as the swill it served and only half as bad as its clientele. That being said, it was leagues better than Darktown hooch and by far more fairly priced than the Blooming Rose. Upon returning to the tavern for my first game night I found that first impressions don’t always lie.

            Glancing around I saw mostly what I expected: drunks and the occasional shady character. But I didn’t see Varric anywhere.

            I think he mentioned he had a room here? Which one was it?

            Before I ventured any farther, a new patron caught my eye. To say that she looked like a fish out of water would have been an understatement. Firstly, she was an elf, they didn’t stray far from the alienage, especially at night. Stranger still, her face was covered in the tattoos of the wild Dalish. All of that was odd, no question, but what really threw me for a loop was that she was practically walking in with stars in her eyes and no one in the bar seemed remotely interested in accosting her. Some of them even seemed to shrink away as she passed by. Cheerily she skipped her way down the room and up the stairs.

            Positively dumbfounded that someone could have so much cheer in Kirkwall of all places, I barely remembered to keep my mouth from gaping. In my distracted state and over the cacophony of the bar air, I didn’t hear the footsteps approach me. I tensed as a hand placed itself on my right shoulder.

            I barely heard the voice that came with it, but when I turned I saw the familiar face of Hawke’s mage, Anders. I relaxed and flashed him a smile, “Hey mate, sorry, I didn’t hear you earlier.”  I tugged on my ear slightly.

            Anders cast a glance at my face and, noticing the scar that extended from my right ear, nodded in understanding. “I was asking if you’d gotten lost.”

            “Ah yeah, I couldn’t remember which room Varric said was his.”

            “He might not have, sometimes he gets so excited with embellishments that he forgets the more mundane details.” He motioned with his hand and started walking. “It’s just the first door at the top of the stairs, c’mon.”

            Just as he said, we made it to Varric’s room and were greeted by the tenant, Hawke and Bethany, and the bubbly elf from earlier.

            “You made it!” Varric said jovially from the seat at the head of the table. “Pull up a chair and grab a drink, first rounds on me.”

            “Maker, I could use one.” Anders sounded exhausted as he sat and pulled a flagon from the central tray.

            “Long day at the clinic?” Hawke inquired.

            “You have no idea…” I zoned out as the mage sat beside him and proceeded to tell Hawke of all his trials and tribulations throughout the day.

            “Isaac! When Hawke said he ran into you again, I almost didn’t believe it! How have you been?” Bethany asked. She sat between her brother and Varric and seemed as full of cheer as she had been the last time I saw her. Her smile was contagious.

            My gut swirled. “I’ve been well, Bethany. Thank you. How have you been? Have you and Garrett missed me terribly?”

            A delicate laugh escaped her lips. “Oh, my brother has been near inconsolable.”

            “Have not.” Hawke momentarily left his conversation with Anders to set the record straight.

            Still giggling from her brothers protests she continued, “Really though I am glad you decided to join us for a game. I wasn’t sure you’d ever take us up on that offer.”

            “Glad to be here,” I said, still inches from the door frame.

            The wide-eyed elf peered at me like she was trying to remember something she’d forgotten. “Oh, we haven’t met before, have we? I’d feel so silly if I’ve forgotten. Dread wolf take me, I’ve been so jumbled since the move.”

            “No, Merrill, this is Isaac, the one I mentioned the other day.” Bethany kindly explained.

            “Oh, the bleeding boy with the pretty eyes!” Merrill exclaimed as recollection took hold. Bethany buried her hands in her head over the elf’s selective memory. Noticing her displeasure, Merrill simply continued on. “What’s wrong? I don’t think you were mistaken. They are a lovely shade of blue.”

            “No, Merrill, that’s not—I don’t-” Bethany struggled.

            “Sweet Bethany just wanted to keep her crush to herself, Kitten. She’s embarrassed because now Isaac knows she thinks he’s pretty.” Isabela scooted into the room brandishing an exquisitely shaped bottle of liquor and a small stack of cups. She slid into the seat at Merrill’s side.

            “What? No! I just—his eyes are a nice shade of blue, that’s all! I—oh Maker.” Bethany coiled deeper into herself.

            “It’s ok, Bethany.” I couldn’t stop the slight chuckle from escaping my lips. “I am gorgeous. You know, some have called me the sapphire of Darktown.”

            Hawke snorted derisively. “Right and I’m the hero of Fereldan.”

            “Why Garrett, I didn’t know you were a woman! No wonder you were so shy about sharing your room with me.” I shot back. He just sighed as Isabela let out a devilish laugh. Eventually, Bethany lifted her face out of her hands as she was no longer the target of the teasing.

            “Are we just going to question Hawke’s manhood all night or are we going to play cards?” Anders asked with no lack of amusement through all the commotion.

            “Easy, Blondie. We’re still waiting on one more.” Varric tried to placate.

            “Only one?”

            “Aveline is swamped with work right now. Apparently, her promotion came with more paperwork than anything else.” Hawke answered. “Fenris should be here soon.”

            “Ugh, right. But I swear by Andraste’s flaming knickers that if he goes on another anti-mage rant I am not responsible for whatever Justice requires me to do.” The mage leaned back in his chair, pouting like a child.

            “You would cast the blame of your actions elsewhere? How typical of a mage.” Speak of the devil. An elf with white hair and matching tattoos—whom I could only assume was Fenris—strode into the room. He wasted no time grabbing a drink and taking the empty seat between Isabela and Varric.

            At that moment, I realized I was the only one left standing. Only one seat was left at that point: the foot of the Table. Just opposite where Varric sat. Almost like the Dwarf had planned it.

            Soon after I sat Varric began dealing out the cards. Feigning inexperience with the game I asked them all to go easy on me. Some hands I won, others I folded; but more than the cards I was focusing on my companions. Watching for every eye twitch, listening to every comment; learning who they were and what their tells were. It took me three rounds to realize that that was exactly what Varric was doing to me. He was a clever Dwarf to be sure; I’d have to watch myself around him.

            As the night went on, we got to swapping stories. It turned out that Varric was an author by trade and he delighted in regaling us with his fiction and embellished tales about his friends. I even told a few of my own; stories from another life that no one here would recognize. For some of them I even used the dramatic tricks I employ when swapping stories for tips. Accents, drama, suspense. My tales had it all.

            Eventually I let slip that I sang as well and a drunken chorus—mostly Isabela—chanted at me until I obliged and sang for them. I figured I go light-hearted and began.

            “’Billy Liar’s got his hands in his pockets staring over at the neighbor’s, knickers down…’”

            I took a dramatic bow after I finished my song, to the cheers of my audience. The group was pretty far gone by that point so they acted like it was the single greatest song they’re heard their entire lives.

            “I didn’t know you could sing!” Bethany exclaimed; her cheeks were rosy still, despite the fact her brother cut her off two rounds ago.

            “I picked it up over the years.” I said as I continued to nurse the same drink from the first round.

            “You sound like an old man, Showman.” Varric chuckled. “You can’t be older than twenty-three.”

            “Twenty-two actually, last winter. I have an old soul.” I commented wispily. “But, Showman?”

            “Varric does like his nicknames.” Hawke explained jovially.

            “What does he call you?”

            “Hawke.”

            “That’s not very creative.” I criticized as the rest of the group laughed.

            “They’re meant to be descriptive.” Varric defended.

            “He calls me Daisy. It’s very sweet, but he won’t explain why.” Merrill supplied unhelpfully.

            Her nickname I understood off the bat, even only knowing her for a few hours. Curiously I asked around the table for other nicknames; Blondie, Sunshine, Rivaini. They all seemed accurate and offered them up readily so I wasn’t prepared for Fenris to say completely deadpan: “Broody.”

            I lost my shit, laughing so hard my sides ached. His delivery was so dry and the name was so fitting I couldn’t take it. It took me a solid minute to recollect myself and stop laughing.

            We played a few more hands and I collected a nice pot of winnings. Though, the last round I let Bethany win. I figured letting her take some of my money made up for picking her pocket before. After all, there was no way I was ever going to get that original pouch back to her.

            Things winded down and eventually ended when Hawke announced that he needed to get Bethany home—to which of course she protested profusely. Everyone seemed to agree that it was as good a stopping point as any.

            Fenris helped Isabela down the hall to her room—though I doubt she was even a fraction as drunk as she pretended to be—before skulking off to wherever the elf called home. Varric insisted on walking Merrill home despite her hiccupping protests that she was alright. Anders and I walked together for a time before he descended back into Darktown. I wouldn’t be able to show my face down there for a while. Or ever again, for that matter.

            Even so I walked with a slight spring in my step, I felt like I had allies. Or if not allies I at the very least had something of a shield for the time being. I felt untouchable as I whistled and walked towards the warehouse district. There were always one or two empty buildings good for squatting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Isaac sings is "Billy Liar" by the decemberists, for those wondering.
> 
> thanks for reading and have a great day!
> 
> Edits: 1/22/2018


	6. Trade Mistakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again thank you everyone who has been reading this work!  
> Special thanks for those who've left a Kudos or a Comment, it really means a lot to me, so thank you!

            The next day, I decided to seek Hawke out. Last night was good, but if I was going to be seen as one of them, I’d have to be seen with them. I hung around Gamlen’s house; loitering just out of sight of any curious bystanders.

            It wasn’t long before the Hawke siblings exited their humble abode and made their way towards the markets. Being the veritable rogue that I was, I tailed them just long enough before revealing myself for a coincidental meeting.

            “So where are we off to today?” I asked casually over Garrett’s turned back.

            He nearly jumped out of hi armor. “Andraste’s tits!” he shouted in surprise; earning more than one disapproving look from the crowds. “Isaac. Do. Not. Do that.”

            “Why, Garrett old chum, I had no idea I would startle you so.” I played innocent.

            Bethany tried to cover her amusement. She failed, but it was a cute attempt nonetheless. “Brother and I were on our way to visit Aveline. We have a job we’d like her help on.”

            Whistling, I picked up my pace and fell in step beside Bethany. “A job that requires the famed Guard Captain herself; must be a hell of a thing. Allow me to offer my services in your little venture.”

            “No thanks.” Hawke shut me down immediately.

            Silently, I pleaded for Bethany to take my side. Judging by her sympathetic face I knew she had gotten the message. “Brother, didn’t you say you wanted extra bodies on this job? You know that Varric has a meeting with the Merchant’s Guild today and Isabella never works the day after Wicked Grace night. And you said it yourself that Isaac is a capable fighter.”

            Hawke just made a sort of grumbling noise in response.

            “And besides I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise. Wouldn’t want to cause trouble around the Captain.” I added.

            “Fine, you can come.” Garrett said after a long sigh. “But you take this seriously.”

            I held up my right hand. “Cross my heart.” He seemed satisfied with that and continued to lead us up into Hightown, and to the Viscount’s Keep. It wasn’t an area I frequented; the guard’s presence was heavier here. Only wealthy organizations that could afford the Hightown bribes could hope to make a living there. I never did like the idea of giving my hard-stolen money to the guards.

            Before we entered the keep Bethany tugged my arm and pointed to a mansion located nearby. “That’s the house Mother and Uncle Gamlen grew up in.”

            “Wow, it’s a shame they ever lost it.” I replied. It was a beautiful estate; it seemed a little unkempt compared to its neighbors, but it’s core architecture was there.

            “We’re getting it back.” Hawke said, his voice firm with determination. Bethany just smiled a little forlornly. I tried to pry more details about how they were going to acquire the property, but Garrett wouldn’t say anything more.

            When we entered the keep, Hawke knocked experimentally on the office door. A tired voice called out, “Come in.” The woman who called sat behind a large desk covered in papers; a single sword lay across its length. Her orange hair rolled down her head onto her heavily armored shoulders. She looked more prepared to defend the city than to tackle its paperwork.

            “Hello Hawke, Bethany.” She greeted without lifting her head much. She continued her work.

            “Hi Aveline. You busy?” Hawke asked.

            “Yes, but honestly I could use a break.” She lifted her head and motioned to me. “Who’s this?”

            Hawke opened his mouth to speak, but I beat him to the punch. “I’m Isaac Guard Captain. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.” I even threw a little bow in for the hell of it. Hawke gave a slight look of disbelief. “I said _best_ behavior.” I smirked.

            “Oh, I remember. You’re the one Hawke took in a few weeks ago; did you ever file a report with the guard? We might be able to find the ones responsible for the attack.”

            “Thanks, but I’d prefer to let bygones be bygones.” I responded.

            She raised her eyebrow slightly but shrugged. “Very well. So, what did you need Hawke?”

            He explained the job to her—and me by proxy. Apparently, a merchant stowed a load of goods in a cave off the Wounded coast during a storm a few nights ago, when he went to retrieve the items the cave was overrun with giant spiders and the man barely made it out again with his life.

            Our job was simple enough; go in, kill spiders, and move most valuable goods out of the cave. Easy.

            Easy.

* * *

 

            Not Easy. The spiders seemed to endlessly pour from the void-like ceiling of the cavern. Not to mention the cobwebs threatening to trip our every step and we pushed deeper into the cave.

            Admittedly I was far more used to fighting human opponents. Those eight-legged freaks were putting me through my paces. Not to mention that sometimes they shot webs and other times they spit caustic poison. It was all I could do to keep myself guarded as well as watching Bethany’s back. On the front lines, Hawke and Aveline carved a path forward with their swords. Every few minutes Garrett shouted back at me to keep the gits off Bethany, but truth be told she was holding her own just fine.

            It turned out that aside from a proficiency with healing magic she was also very adept in fire and ice. I was just grateful that she had so much control over her power. More than once I was relieved when curved away from me and hit a spider instead. That being said I made sure to be hyperaware of wherever she was casting.

            “It shouldn’t be much farther now!” Garrett called back as he cut through two legs of an arachnid.

            “How did that merchant even get his goods this deep in the cave in the first place?” I shouted in frustration as I kicked another beast in the eyes. My question was taken as rhetorical and went unanswered as we finished up the most recent wave of creatures. By the time they were dead, I barely had a dry piece of clothing to wipe my blades on.

            “That looks to be the last of them.” Hawke said, panting slightly.

            “Hawke, every time I go on an adventure with you, my clothes end up covered in blood. You owe me a new wardrobe.” I commented idly.

            “Does the first time we met count too? Because if I recall correctly that was all your own blood.” He quipped.

            “Oh Garrett! I declare! Are we having a banter?” I donned a false southern Belle accent, the reference would be lost on him but it would still be funny. “We must get a painting done to mark the occasion.”

            Even he smirked at that. “But perhaps the new wardrobe first? Can’t have the memory sullied by those rags.”

            “Good point.”

            Aveline cleared her throat. “I hate to be the one to remind you, but we do have a job to do. And I have one to get back to so, if you don’t mind.”

            “I’m with Aveline. I can’t wait to get out of this cave.” Bethany agreed.

            “Then let’s get moving. If his descriptions are accurate, the supplies should be in the back of the chamber just ahead.” Hawke pointed.

            The chamber in question was a wide room with a long, narrow path leading towards it. Another small path led off in another direction, presumably deeper into the dark system of caverns. We had to enter the room in single file because the entrance was so narrow. Hawke headed the group and I brought up the rear with the women in the middle.

            When we all made it inside Bethany lit the room with her staff. Light drops of water fell between stalactites and stalagmites making a barely audible pattering. There were more cobwebs, but they didn’t hinder movement like they had in the other areas. A few wooden crates sat against the wall close to the other exit.

            “Well that must be it then.” Hawke said as he strode forward.

            “Brilliant deduction.” I rolled my eyes.

            In total, there were three smaller crates and one large one. None of them were particularly heavy so we each picked a box and carried them towards the entrance. We walked, single-file once again through the narrow passage. Bethany stumbled into Aveline’s stationary back halfway through.

            “Sorry,” she apologized. When Aveline didn’t respond, I got worried.

            “What’s wrong?” I whispered.

            “That’s it, keep moving nice and slow!” An unfamiliar voice answered my question.

            “Now, now we don’t want any trouble.” Garrett said diplomatically.

            “Won’t be any if you move up.” The stranger raised his voice again. “The lot of you! Out!”

            We moved and found ourselves surrounded by a group of raiders with a variety of weapons. All of which were pointed at us. We stood completely still as their leader paced around assessing us.

            “Alright, you’re gonna bring the goods up to us one by one, nice and easy.” He leered at Bethany. “You first, love.”

            Shakily Bethany took a step, but not before Garrett took two. “Not you!” The raider shouted at the warrior.

            “Oh, how embarrassing. Truly, so sorry. I just thought…” He turned his head and gave us a meaningful look. It said to get ready. “I just really thought you might want this one first!” With all his strength Garrett hurled his box at the leader catching him off guard and nailing him in the chest. “Move!” He shouted as he readied his blade.

            Aveline dropped her box and leapt into the fight as well, and Bethany attempted the same toss her brother made. The man she threw it at, however, was more prepared than his boss and caught it midair. Without missing a beat Bethany manifested a small ball of flames and tossed it at the man.

            A small explosion rocked the cavern as the flame met the crate. Whatever the merchant was selling, it was highly flammable. The force of the blast sent both myself and Bethany back against the wall. She hit her head and immediately slumped to the ground.

            “Beth!” Garrett shouted. No doubt he would have run to her side immediately, but he was engaged from multiple sides by the raiders. His head whipped to where Aveline was but he found that she too was in a similar position. Out of desperation he called out to me. “Isaac! Grab Bethany and get her out of here!”

            “Right!” I said, admittedly too quietly to be heard over the clanging of steel. Regardless, I grabbed Bethany and hoisted her over my shoulder like a potato sack. There was no way forward; the path was blocked by our assailants. With no other recourse, I made my way back down the narrow path. It was difficult to move through carrying another person, but with the arrows falling at my heel I had no other choice.

            At some point the archers switched from regular arrows to flaming ones, and it wasn’t long before one caught the edge of one of the abandoned crates. Another explosion shook the earth above and below us. Debris began to fall on us as I tried to pick up the pace. I all but tumbled into the cavern as the path behind me filled with rubble. I stared back at a new wall of rock. Bethany and I were trapped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edits:1/22/2018


	7. Secret Tunnel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of an early upload for me.  
> Who knows, maybe this means I'll upload a second chapter this week. I'm not saying I will, but hey, I'm on spring break. Anything can happen.
> 
> Coyness aside, as always thanks to everyone who is reading and supporting this work.  
> It really does mean the world to me.

            “Beth! Bethany wake up!” I shook the unconscious mage’s shoulders.  Arguably not the best treatment for someone with a head injury, but I was a little stressed. I could hear the faint sounds of battle muffled through the wall of fallen stone. Metal clashed and cut through the air with voracity. Explosive force shook the cave as another of the crates detonated. Noise filled and reverberated through the area, but I couldn’t see any of it. Sometimes it was loud enough to feel in the surrounding air; other times it was so quiet I wondered if it was over. But a wall of stone and impenetrable dark blinded me from understanding what was actually happening.

            “C’mon Bethy, wake up. Garrett’ll kill me if you don’t make it out of this.” I cupped her face, I couldn’t see her. Any light that she once conjured faded with her consciousness. We were stranded in darkness.

            “Garrett! Captain?” I tried shouting at the wall; hoping for my companions to hear me through the rubble and over the battle. Hoping for any verbal response at all. Nothing. My throat felt tight and the cave suddenly felt even smaller than it had before. After everything—every fucked-up thing Thedas had thrown at me over the years this was where it would end? Trapped by some two-bit pirates over a box of explosives?

            I laid Bethany down as gently as I could and frantically searched my pockets for a match or anything that could light up the room. Nothing, not even a piece of flint. I wouldn’t let that stop me. My eyes opened as wide as they could as I forced them to adjust to the sheer blackness I was swimming in. Then I remembered; there was another pathway. Maybe a way out.

            I placed my hand on the wall as I used it to traverse the space. It was damp and cold to the touch and more than once I had to watch my pressure so I didn’t cut myself on any parts that jutted out. I made it hallway to where I remembered the passage to be when I heard Bethany call out.

            “Brother?” she sounded meek and frightened. Frustration filled me as I debated escaping alone or going back for her.

            “Shit.” I muttered to myself as I retraced my steps back to where I left the mage. “Bethany? Are you all right?”

            “Who? Isaac? Is that you? Where are you?” She spoke quickly with panicked breathing.

            “I’m here.” I tried to control my own tone; forcing myself to at least sound calm and collected. I reached out and found her hands; she gripped me tightly.

            “What happened? Where’s my brother? And Aveline?”

            “Those damn crates were filled with explosives, one of them threw you against the wall and knocked you out. Another went off after I carried you out. There was a cave in. It blocked us in. Last I saw the other two were still fighting on the other side.”

            Bethany was quiet. We were still in the dark; her nails started to dig into my hands. “Bethany?” I called to no response. I tried again but she didn’t respond. I could feel her curl into herself. She was having a panic attack.

            “Bethany, breathe. You’re ok I’ve got you.” I made my voice as convincing as it could be. We were already in a bad situation but it could only get worse if she lost control. I rubbed her hands in an attempt to sooth her. “Can you hear me Beth? We’re ok. We’re safe. Garrett and the captain are taking care of things. When they’re done, they’re going to come and get us. Your brother is strong.”

            A heart wrenching sob escaped the woman. “Carver was strong too.”

            “Ok, I’m gonna back-peddle on the talk then, yeah? How about a song? Yeah, songs are good.” I was scrambling to keep her calm and remember the words at the same time. I really needed to reread my old journals again.

            Finally, I came up with something easy and calm. I sucked in a breath and began to sing:

            “Lay me down, lay me down, lay me down, lay me down. Don’t give in, don’t give in…” Humming the instrumental parts as I held her, hoping to god that it worked. By the time, I sang the last line her grip had lessened as she stopped shaking. Truth be told I may have added in a couple extra “don’t give in’s” than the song called for, but I think she needed it. Hell, I needed it too.

            “There, see we’re ok. Do you think you can manage some light?” I said softly. Her response took the form of a glowing ball resting in the palm of her hand like a small animal; and no less delicate. I smiled at her. “There you are.”

            She smiled back appreciatively; still uneasy, but obviously she felt a little safer. At this point we noticed the sounds from the other room were quiet. We were still until we heard a muffled shout. “Bethany? Isaac? Are you ok?” It was Hawke.

            “We’re here!” Bethany stood as she called back, finally releasing my hands. I too stood and dusted myself off.

            “We’re fine, a little bruised, but nothing serious.” I said to the rocks.

            “We’re going to get you out! Isaac are there any loose stones on your end?” Hawke asked, unable to mask the concern in his voice.

            “Let me check!” Bethany held her light near the wall and I scanned to see anything. Some of the rubble seemed loose but when I pried it away with the help of my dagger more debris fell and kept it buried. There way so safe way to dig out without more collapse. I told Hawke as much and I swear his response must have been to hit his side of the wall with all his strength.

            “That isn’t going to help them Hawke.” I heard Captain Aveline chide the man. Then she addressed us. “There was another path before, is that way still open?”

            The light left in Bethany’s hand and floated over the other exit. “It’s still there, but how do we know where it’ll lead?” The mage asked.

            “We don’t, but that may be your only option if we can’t dig you out.” Aveline responded.

            Bethany paled a little, I could only imagine her brother doing the same. I took it upon myself to continue the conversation. “How likely is it that this other tunnel leads back outside?”

            “There are similar caves all over the wounded coast and many of them are connected. Besides that, some of these smaller tunnels look manmade, probably by smugglers or pirates. If that’s the case, then I wouldn’t be surprised if they led back out again.”

            “What if they lead to more smugglers and pirates?” Hawke sounded angry now.

            “We’ll be careful.” I tried to placate him. “I’m no stranger to missions that require a bit of stealth.”

            Hawke was quiet for a moment, like he was contemplating. “Bethy, what do you think? How are you feeling?”

            “I’m scared, but I agree with Aveline. These tunnels always seem to intersect and it’s really our best option at this point. There’s no telling how much more trouble we might get into if we aggravate the cave-in more.”

            Another pause. “Ok. Just be careful, Bethy. And Isaac if anything happens to my sister…”

            I didn’t need him to finish the threat. “Yes, yes we’ve been through that already. I’ll watch out for her. Try not to worry, I wouldn’t be so cruel as to deprive you of a sister and a best friend in one fell swoop.”

            Hawke groaned, clearly not in the mood for my antics. “Just be safe, both of you. Don’t provoke any pirates that might be in there. Or anything else for that matter.”

            “We won’t.” His sister tried to reassure him.

            “Listen you two, we’re going to wait in the cave so when you find your way out, make your way back around to us. That way if it does turn out to be a dead end you can just turn around and we can try something else.” Aveline instructed.

            “Got it.” I turned to face Bethany. “Ready to go?”

            She nodded but turned back to the stone. “I’ll see you soon brother. Try not to worry too much.” I couldn’t be sure if she said that for Garrett or for herself. “Good luck Aveline.”

            The other two wished us luck and we strode to the entrance. Bethany called her ball of light back to her and dimmed it slightly. We stood before uncertainty. Sensing her nerves still, I took Bethany’s hand and led the charge in.

            “I just thought of the perfect song for this adventure.” I said chuckling to myself.

            “Oh?” Bethany asked. I just flashed her a stupid smile before belting out:

            “Secret tunnel! Secret Tunnel! Through the mountain! Secret, secret, secret, secret tunnel!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs featured in this chapter include Quiet Houses by Fleet Foxes and the Secret Tunnel song from Avatar the Last Airbender.  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> edits:1/22/2018


	8. Second Child, Restless Child

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here it is--as alluded to previously--the second chapter for this week. Honestly I would have liked to have gotten it up sooner, but hey what can you do.
> 
> Rambling aside, thanks as always to everyone reading.  
> Hope you have a good one.

            Bethany liked the story of Omashu; she thought it was charming and romantic, if a bit sad. It also had the added effect of keeping her mind off the situation we were in. Luckily for us, this pathway was slightly wider than the one that had collapsed allowing us to walk side-by-side rather than single file.

            “Where did you learn all your stories? And those songs? I’ve never heard them before.” Bethany commented.

            “Huh, oh all over.” I said unremarkably. Bethany stood on my right, and even in the dead silence of the cave my bad ear had trouble hearing her perfectly. With as much subtlety as I could muster I shifted my steps to put her on my left side.

            “Have you been many places then?” She said not noticing—or more likely not acknowledging—my shift.

            I chuckled slightly, “I guess I have.”

            “And your songs, are they common in the Anderfels?”

            “What?” I paused, confused. Right, I told her that’s where I was from. I really needed to stop making new origin stories for every new person I met. “Ah, some. Many I heard from traveling theater groups.”

            “Oh, I love theater groups! Once when we still lived in Lothering a troupe came through and stayed for a whole week performing different shows!” She beamed like she was back in that small village instead of wandering further down the cavern’s innards.

            “You know, I used to want to be an actor when I was a kid.” I commented.

            “Really?”

            “Yeah, I always had a knack for remembering lines and I really admired the actors I saw.”

            “You do have that showman’s quality about you.” She giggled about her own joke. “Varric got that right. But what about now? Surely you could find a troupe to join if you wanted to. What’s stopping you?”

            Something about the cave we were trapped in made me feel more candid and nostalgic than usual, and I felt compelled to speak. “That’s behind me at this point. Honestly, I don’t really want to travel anymore, and I don’t know. I’m just not a kid anymore, I guess?”

            This time it was Bethany squeezing my hand to comfort me. “I know what you mean. When I was a girl I wanted more than anything to own a bakery, just so I could eat cakes for every meal!” Her smiled slightly faded as she continued. “Now, I just want to stay out of the way of the Templars.”

            Not knowing what to say, I simply nodded and we walked on in silence. The passage continued on monotonously for the most part. Occasionally the road dawdled off into small side rooms, but didn’t ultimately misdirect our travel by much. After just under an hour of walking we saw faint light bleeding around a corner. It wasn’t natural.

            “Dim the light and wait here.” I turned and told her. “If you hear a commotion that’s your cue to high tail it back and hide. Otherwise, I’ll come back and get you.” I turned to check out the way ahead but was stopped by a tug on my sleeve.

            “You better come back.” Bethany declared with the same intensity that her brother had when he ordered me to keep her safe. Apparently, it was a familial trait.

            I nodded and continued on. Despite the light, there were still a generous amount of shadows for me to cling to. As I drew closer, I discovered that the source of the light was a glowing amber crystal. It lit the surrounding area in an ambient haze.

            The chamber itself was rather unremarkable; a few ancient barrels and crates marked it as a long-abandoned hide-away. The containers had nothing but rot and refuse in them anymore, but what interested me was the tunnel heading the opposite way. Down the corridor, shining like the gates of heaven itself, was the unmistakable light of day. And it wasn’t far away at all.

            After glancing around a little more closely and stepping near the mouth of the chamber, I was convinced that we had found the exit. We weren’t going to die in this Maker-forsaken cave. I grabbed the amber light stone and rounded the corner back to where I left my companion.

            “Bethany, what would you say if I told you I’ve found a way out of this cave?” I smirked.

            Relief filled her dimly lit face. “I’d say it’s about time!”

* * *

 

            When we finally made it back to Hawke and Aveline, they all but crushed us in a bear hug. Well Hawke did. The guard captain did seem relieved that we made it out all right, which was nice. The reunion between the Hawke siblings was heartwarming to say the least. Both of them were blubbering and promising each other that nothing like this would ever happen again. Honestly, I would have teased them both if I wasn’t on the side of the cave-in. My usual snark felt too exhausting at that point.

            If any of us had the energy to we would have sprinted back into Kirkwall. I never thought I’d be so happy to see that scum-pile of a city, but when we passed through its gates I could have kissed the stonework.

            “All in favor of never setting foot in a cave again say ‘aye’.” I said absent-mindedly. Honestly, I was surprised when no one agreed with me.

            “I wish that were an option.” Hawke sounded tired.

            “What do you mean? It’s very much an option, just next time we see a cave resist the urge to spelunk.” I sent him an incredulous look.

            “No, it’s not really an option because we’re part of an expedition that’s going into the deep roads.” Hawke’s fingers met his forehead pinching together with the hopes of clearing his head.

            “You’re crazy.”

            “Maybe so. But my family needs this.”

            I turned to Bethany. “I think your brother’s hit his head in the last fight, you might want to check and see if he’s concussed.”

            “I’m not concussed!” He protested maybe a bit too loudly.

            “Varric and his brother are leading it.” Bethany explained. “That’s why we’ve been taking so many odd jobs, we’re investing our money and partnering with them.”

            At this moment, I realized two things about the Hawke family: 1. They were inconceivably mad and 2. They were the most determined sons-of-bitches in all of Thedas. “You do know what’s in the deep roads, right? Darkspawn? Spreaders of the Blight? Any of this ringing any bells? You all did flee Fereldan for that very reason, right?”

            “Watch it.” Aveline warned. “They understand more than most what the risks are.”

            Garrett nodded in appreciation. “We aren’t taking this lightly. We’re going in prepared.”

            “Well shit. When do you leave?”

            “Two weeks.” Bethany answered.

            “That’s soon.” A thought popped into my head. “Are you gonna be short since we aren’t getting paid for this job?”

            “What do you mean—Oh Maker, the crates!” Hawke actually face-palmed. “They all exploded during the raid.”

            “Oh, I forgot about them completely.” Bethany gasped. “You don’t think he’ll charge us for losing his merchandise, do you?”

            “I wouldn’t worry about him if I were you.” Aveline stepped in. “Explosives like that are heavily regulated when being traded, but none of the boxes had any kind of approval seals on them. I shall have the guard do an investigation to see where he got them and whom he was planning to trade them to.”

            “You think the city will toss us a finder’s fee for giving you the tip?” Garrett asked hopefully.

            The guardswoman sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

            “Then I suppose it was lucky you were with us, Guard Captain.” I beamed at her, she gave me an unimpressed look in response.

            “Right, well I better get back to the Keep. This is going to cause a lot of busy work. I’ll see you later, Hawke. Bethany, Isaac.” The warrior nodded at us before taking her leave up the stairs towards Hightown.

            “So, Hanged Man?” Hawke suggested when she was out of sight.

            The tavern was full of its rambunctious life, as it seemed to always be. There was no sight of Isabela and Varric’s door was closed—apparently, it was the universal sign that the writer was either away or busy with work. Hawke bought us a round of ale and we snagged a table by the stairs. I sat in the chair closest to the corner; it was the best spot to read the room from.

            After the first drink my curiosity got the better of me. “Okay, I have to ask. Why the Deep Roads? Surely there are easier ways to make money.” I asked over my ale.

            Garrett chuckled slightly, “That may be so, but it’s the only way to restore the Amell name to the rank of noble. And to get our mother’s home back.”

            “The way she talks about that estate…she’s lost so much. We all have. If we succeed, then we’ll finally take something back for ourselves.” Bethany said earnestly.

            “Alright, but how does it work? You wander in the dark and maybe you find something shiny to take back and sell?” I asked incredulously.

            “Well, yes and no. The Thaig we’re going into hasn’t been explored yet so we know that it’s remained relatively untouched.” Bethany explained. She turned her mug in her hands idly.

            “But like I said before, we’re being smart about this. Bartrand—that’s Varric’s brother—has a team of mercenaries coming with, and we’re bringing a party of our own.” Her brother continued, talking with the full swing of his forearms.

            “Huh. You’ve got it all figured out then?” I swirled my swill in contemplation. It was going to be difficult to hide behind Hawke’s reputation when he was miles underground. Things were definitely going to be complicated unless I came up with a new plan. “So, who’s going to be part of your team?”

            “Well Varric’s coming with, of course. Fenris agreed to come along as extra muscle as well. We’re trying to keep it small, though. Less complications that way—hopefully. So yeah, just me, Varric, Fenris,” he took a large swig of his drink, “and Bethany.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits: 1/22/2018


	9. Fidget Brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a late post on this one, sorry about that.  
> Anyway Thanks for sticking around!

            An ominous feeling stayed my hand as my knuckle grazed the wood of the door. A small stain mocked me faintly. It was hardly noticeable; I would have missed it entirely if I didn’t know to look for it. Cursing inwardly, I steeled myself and pounded on the door despite my hesitation. After everything, I’d be damned if a panel of wood left me paralyzed.

            “Isaac!” Bethany threw her arms around me in a friendly hug before I knew what was happening.

            “Hey Beth. How are you?” I asked cordially and hugged her back.

            “I’m well. I was planning to take the day off from anything too exciting. Between my brother’s fussing and my own exhaustion from yesterday…well some peace will do me good.”

            “Glad to hear it. It’s good to take time for yourself every once and a while.”

            She smiled appreciatively. “Well come in. No reason to stand on the landing like this. What brings you around today?”

            “Actually, I came by to see what Garrett was up to today. So, where is your dear brother?” I asked ducking into their humble abode.

            “Brother’s actually out, he went off to help Anders out with something this morning. I’m sorry I don’t know when he’ll be back. I don’t think it’ll be until evening.”

            “That so.” Shit, couldn’t shadow him today. That man had an uncanny ability to throw a wrench in my plans.

            “Yeah, I’m sorry did you need him for something specific?”

            “Hm, no. Just figured he seemed to know the best ways to pass time in this city.” I kept up my blasé air.

            “If you just wanted some company for the day you could accompany me to Merrill’s. I’m planning to visit her in the alienage today.” Bethany’s cheeks pinked slightly. “If you’d like that is.”

            “I wouldn’t be intruding on girl’s night out?”

            “Not at all. It’s going to be more of a day in anyway. She’s finally gotten settled into her place and we’ve been talking about visiting since she first moved in. We were planning to have tea today and I don’t think she’d mind the extra company.”

            I thought for a moment, I didn’t have anything better to do and it couldn’t hurt to further ingratiate myself with Hawke’s family. “Alright, I’ll join you then.”

            “Wonderful! I was planning on leaving soon, but I do have to get a few things ready first. Would you mind waiting here for a moment?” I agreed when Bethany asked and made myself comfortable in their front room. It turned out she was the only one home. When I asked, she informed me that her mother was running errands. Gamlen was apparently out doing “Maker knows what”; his niece didn’t want to inquire about any of his business.

            I sat at the table near the cold fireplace until another small table caught my eye. It stood against the wall nearest the door and was littered with papers. While Bethany was off in another room I stood, and moved towards the table. Upon closer inspection, they were letters and—despite the owner of the house being Gamlen—they were almost all addressed to Garrett.

            I didn’t touch any of the papers as I sifted through them with my eyes for fear of leaving anything out of place. They were much what I expected a man like Garrett might accrue. Offers for different jobs and gratitude for completed requests made up the bulk of the pile. One piece of parchment, however, caught my interest. Rather than a letter, it was a list. Some of the items had been crossed out or circled and more still had lengthy descriptions and notes in the margins connected by lines and arrows.

            Familiar names stacked in the ink: the Guardsmen Pretenders, the Redwater Teeth, Sharps Highwayman…and staring back at me, ringed in black ink, the Jackals. A smug smile clawed its way across my face. My friendship with Hawke was becoming more and more beneficial by the day. Garrett had a list of criminal organizations that he was crossing off one by one, and my previous employers were next on the list.

            A door hinge squeaked behind me and I spun on my heel plastering an innocent smile on my face. Bethany returned it with a genuine innocent one of her own. She returned to the room with a small basket of goods and strode towards me. “Ready to go?”

* * *

 

            Despite my time in Kirkwall, the Alienage was always something of a mystery to me. Being as obviously human as I was, it was impossible to blend in whenever I found myself there. It wasn’t like going to Darktown where everyone was suspicious of everyone; no, here everyone was suspicious of me and determined to protect each other _from_ me if necessary. Their eyes were always on the strange human who wandered too close to their den, vigilant and hyper cautious. Like a pack of wolves.

            Bethany seemed undeterred by the narrow-eyed stares of the elven folk; she walked with the confidence of a Hawke and the tenacity of the animal her family was named for. But she was kind, she greeted everyone we walked by and a couple of them even recognized her and returned her pleasantries. Most however continued to go about their business. And there was still the undeniable presence of those suspicious, almost feral eyes.

            Admittedly, I admired their caution and loyalty to one another. It was something the humans in this city lacked. A sense of community that most disregarded entirely. It was also a smart attitude to have. I understood enough to know that all too often a human in an alienage meant nothing but trouble.

            Despite the vigilant air, we arrived at Merrill’s home unbothered by any of the locals. The building itself was small and dingy—more like an apartment than anything else—but was honestly not much worse that Gamlen’s little hovel. It was also situated as far into the alienage as one could get.

            Cheerfully, Bethany rapped on the door. A few moments and some stumbling thuds later the door swung open to reveal the painted elf. “Bethany!” she exclaimed as she drew her friend in for a hug. “What a lovely surprise!”

            Eyebrows quirked. “Surprise? Didn’t we agree to meet for tea today?”

            “What?” she released her hold. “Oh, did we? By the dread wolf! I completely forgot!”

            “Oh, well we can come back another time if that would be better?” Bethany offered.

            “Oh no, no come in! I’ll just need a moment to tidy up a bit. Creators! My home is always such a mess.” She skipped back into her home leaving the door wide open for us.

            The inside was about as small as it looked from the outside. It was modestly furnished and heated by the warm glow of a low burning fireplace. Beside the fire stood a round table buried under loose papers and books sprawled open to seemingly random pages. Other than the table, however, the apartment was fairly clean despite the fussy elf’s muttering to the contrary.

            Haphazardly, Merrill began shoveling the papers and books into her arms and stuffing them onto a nearby bookcase. In another moment, she dashed off to another room to return with a small rag and began wiping down the table.

            “Go ahead and take a seat, I’m going…” the rest of her sentence was lost as she kept talking while moving out of the room.

            “Is she always this frenzied?” I leaned towards Bethany.

            “Only when she’s forgotten something.”

            “And how often is that?”

            A hesitant smile admitted what she didn’t want to say out loud.

            “Oh Isaac! I didn’t know you were here too!” the excitable elf exclaimed from the hallway. “When did you get here?”

            A genuine look of confusion overtook me. “I came with Bethany.” My sentence ended with a lilt making it sound more like a question than a statement.

            “You did? Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize!”

            I shot Bethany an inquisitorial look. Merrill couldn’t be serious, was she? Judging by Beth’s response seemed to affirm that she was.

            “Isaac came to our home this morning looking for someone to pass time with. I hope you don’t mind that I asked him to tag along.” Bethany explained.

            “Oh, no not at all. The more the merrier!” She beamed.

            “Do you need any help getting things together Merrill? I could help you with the tea?” Bethany offered.

            “Oh, no thank you. Actually, I need to step out for a moment. Seems that last time I bought groceries I forgot to pick up tea.”

            “You don’t have to go to the trouble. We don’t need tea to have a nice visit.”

            “No. We agreed to have tea so we’re going to have tea!” she whipped out of the door and into the alienage in a determined wind, leaving us stunned in her wake. Like the plains after a tornado passes through.

            “What just happened?” I asked jovially dumbfounded after a beat of silence.

            Bethany giggled. “You should have seen her when she was moving in. She calmed down a lot since then.”

            “This is ‘calmed down’? I don’t know that I’ve ever seen anyone so frantic to have guests.” I said in exaggerated disbelief.

            “She was practically bouncing off the walls. Brother and I stopped by to help her unpack and she was so distraught that she didn’t have anything to thank us for the help she went out and bought a brand-new tea set along with a box of cake. We were halfway through the cake before she realized that she never added the tea leaves to the water.”

            Laughter tore through me as I imagined the scenario. The Hawke siblings, too polite to mention the lack of tea and their host, too frazzled to notice. “You know…I can definitely see that.”

            We spent the next few minutes talking about the gang and laughing about their eccentricities. Bethany felt especially close to Merrill, I learned, because they were both mages. And to an extent understood the lengths one has to go through to avoid the templars. Merrill was also a welcomed source of optimism in an unkind city.

            Anders understood the mages plight as well, but sometimes his outrage at the injustice of the world made him a bit standoffish. “But there is rarely a kinder soul!” Bethany amended. “He puts more than he has into his free clinic.”

            I’d heard of the clinic when I lived in Darktown, rumors mostly, and not the friendly kind in my corner of shadow.

            “It’s a shame I never sought out his help before, he probably could have done wonders for this.” I rolled up my sleeve to reveal an old burn scar. It wasn’t big, but it was ugly.

            “Oh my, how did you get that?” Bethany asked with concern as she pulled my arm closer to see. I don’t think she realized our faces were inches apart. I almost forgot myself and reached over to brush her hair away from her face.

            “That I got when I saved a dog from a barn fire.” I replied, lying through my teeth. “A flaming beam fell from above and I just barely caught it above the pup and myself.” Nothing so heroic.

            “Oh my!” Bethany seemed taken by the story all the same.

            Eventually the elf returned with tea and a few small cookies. Bethany told her about her week, and she replied in kind. Occasionally the two explained details that were unfamiliar to me. Apparently, Merrill was a Dalish elf, but after a disagreement with her keeper left for the city. It reminded me of when I was younger. When I would get pissed at my parents and ditch them to spend hours downtown. Though, those arguments were usually over something stupid, I had a feeling Merrill’s situation was a bit more complicated. That being said no one got into it in any great detail.

            “I realize I don’t know much about you Isaac. Aside from your lovely singing voice. Where are you from?” Merrill addressed me at one point.

            “Oh, uh the Anderfels.” I replied, wracking my brain to remember what story I had told Bethany when we first met. Getting caught in a lie was something I liked to avoid if at all possible.

            “The Anderfels! I’ve never been so far north! Is it lovely there? What is it like?” Her wide eyes shimmered.

            “Ah, yeah it’s nice. Mountains…trees. You know, much of what you’d expect.” Shit, why couldn’t I have just said I was from Orlais or Fereldan? At least I’ve been to those countries before. What I actually knew of the Anderfels couldn’t even fill a thimble.

            “Anders is from there originally, you know.”

            “Really?” I tried not to sound disinterested.

            “Yes, but he only remembers it a little. He was very young when he left. Maybe you and he could talk about it sometime! Reminisce!”

            “Ah, maybe, but honestly it’s been so long since I was there I don’t know that I could do it justice.”

            “Really? Why did you leave?”

            Why did I? I think…school, I said I was sent away to, “School. My mother wanted me to get an education.”

            Bethany glanced at me for a moment, like she had a slight thought but almost immediately shook it away. “That’s when you came to the Free Marches, right?” She asked as a refresher.

            “Yeah.”

            “Did you come straight to Kirkwall?” Merrill asked with the same amount of enthusiasm.

            “Not right away.” I trailed off. Where did I say I studied? Where? The women both waited expectantly for me to continue. “I started off in Markham.”

            Confusion flittered across Bethany’s face and I knew I’d made a mistake. Before she could say anything, I stood and asked about the restroom. It was down the hall and I rushed away. I needed a moment to regroup. _Shit, Markham? What was I thinking. This is why I need to take notes. I can’t be careless with anything I say._

            Before I entered the restroom, a strange feeling tugged at my chest. It came from the door at the end of the hall. Against my better judgement, I followed the feeling. The room appeared to be Merrill’s bedroom. Smaller than the main room, but it was large enough to fit a bed and a tall broken mirror against the wall.

            I stared at the shattered glass and goosebumps traversed my skin. I could almost swear something stared back at me for a moment. The ominous mirror made my breath cold and something like recognition and dread filled my stomach. Consciously, I didn’t know what was so unsettling about the broken glass, but something in the back of my mind demanded I run. My feet walked backwards cautiously before I even realized and I made my way back to the girls.

            Luckily for me, my absence had caused them to move onto other topics, so I was no longer the center of their attention. The rest of the visit was pleasant and there was no further prying into me. I did my best to keep a calm face on, but my palms felt clammy knowing I was under the same roof as that mirror. Whatever it was. When it was time to leave, I walked Bethany home and said goodbye to Merrill. My words and actions not reflecting my mind. That dread. That feeling of insecurity. Something was not right with that mirror and for some reason, somewhere in the back of my mind buried and forgotten a piece of me knew why.

            But why couldn’t I remember?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits: 1/22/2018


	10. No Light, No Light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been so quiet for so long.  
> Life got in the way and all that.
> 
> Anyway thanks for sticking around.

            “Keep up!” The small elven woman chided in front of me. Her blonde bob bouncing with every step.

            “You make it sound so easy,” I huffed. “You do remember I’ve spent the better part of a week jammed in a box, yeah? I’m gonna need a minute to recover from the atrophy.”

            “Not my problem.” She dismissed. “Boss told me to show you the ropes. It’s not my fault if you hang yourself on them.”

            “I don’t see any ropes. Ropes would be great right about now. Would make climbing buildings much easier.”

            “It would be easier if you quit whining and just did it.” With that snide remark, she bounded for the edge of the roof leaping with the grace of a nymph to the other side. Her lithe, light form stood out like a beacon against the dark brown shingles of the roof.

            She taunted me. “Just jump!” she called though cupped hands. “Isaac! Jump!”

            Cursing inwardly, I dashed for the edge a smile adorning my stupid adrenaline-filled self. And then the take off. Wind rushing, ground moving, but the building…didn’t get any closer. It seemed to rise above me and I realized I was falling. The bricks passed me by a photo reel until a sharp pain in my arm brought it all to a stop.

            I looked up at her and saw her lopsided grin. “You didn’t think I’d let you fall did you, Ball Sack?”

            I grinned like a tiger. “You never can tell, Tweety.”

            She pulled me up with enough strength to pop my arm from its socket. When I steadied myself, I found we were in our familiar nook. The stone-carved cranny wasn’t much for sights or smells but it was one of the few parts of Darktown that remained a well-guarded secret.

            Finch sat against the painted stone, confusion clear as day as she tore through my journals. “I don’t know why you spend so much money on books just to draw scribbles in them.”

            “They’re journals. They document my day to day and help me remember things.” I informed her. “Honestly they’re mostly just song lyrics.”

            “No, this doesn’t even say anything. This is nonsense.” She pointed at the page.

            “Not my fault you can’t read English.” I haughtily plucked the book from her grasp.

            “No, stop making up words like they’re things. These are just a bunch of scribbles you made up to keep your diary secret.”

            “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

            “Oh, fine. It it’s a real language, then teach me.”

            “So you can invade my personal space and read my innermost thoughts? No.” I bundled the book with the others.

            “Oh, c’mon. Just teach me a little.” She tugged on my sleeve. “It might come in handy to have a secret code. What if one of us was ever in real trouble?”

            I started to walk away. As I turned to leave she grabbed my wrist. I looked back at her, her eyes locked on the ground. Her expression troubled as she refused to look me in the eye. “I’m in trouble Isaac.” She finally spoke. “Real trouble.”

            My heart sank as suddenly I knew where all of this was heading. Once again, I followed Finch into the labyrinthian sewer systems. This time eyes watched us from between the cracks of the bricks. Fingers dug at the stone to reach us. All around us voices whispered unintelligibly.

            “How much farther?” I asked her.

            Her head spun all the way around, an impossible smile clung to her face like a mask. Beneath, her eyes were lit like candles. “Just a bit farther.”

            This time when we entered the cistern she laughed. Cackled like a crackling fire as the faceless goons pounced from the shadows. They slashed and struck and seemed to multiply from the darkness that birthed them.

            As I did my best to defend I saw Finch’s form erupt from that of a small elf to the molten shape of a rage demon. “Yes. Such beautiful fury.” It spoke with a bastardized version of her voice with snapping and hissing sounds emphasizing the words. “Such betrayal deserves your scorn.”

            I made a guttural noise as I pushed my assailants away from me. They just seemed to keep piling in. But then they changed. No longer faceless mannequins, now they wore familiar masks. One shadow with Hawke’s mask lunged at me with his bladed staff, and another with Isabela’s kicked out my knee. I rolled out of the way only to be grabbed by the color by Fenris’s clawed hands who quickly threw me at Aveline’s feet. Her sword found my shoulder just as a bolt from Varric’s crossbow caught my leg. I grabbed the sword in my side and wrench it and myself away from my attacker narrowly dodging a fireball conjured from Anders’ hands.

            “It’s only a matter of time before they too, betray you. How awful. How loathsome. How infuriating.” The creature smiled.

            With one final gambit, I pulled the sword from my flesh and ignored the spray of blood. I ignored the arrow in my thigh and threw myself full force at the demon catching it in the chest just as it began to shift its form once again. It’s glowing body extinguished and I was plunged into darkness. I breathed heavily. None of the shadows attacked anymore. Everything was dark and still.

            I stood there for what seemed like ages. My body throbbing and shaking, breath short and fast. Until I was cast out of the darkness. The form in front of me lifted a small amber colored glowing stone. My eyes widened with horror as I beheld not the creature of flame, or even Finch.

            “Isaac?” It was Bethany, blood dripping from the corners of her mouth and pouring from her chest where my sword rested. Her eyes looked at me with desperation and fear before turning entirely black. Like the eyes had been removed from the sockets.

 

            My chest felt like I had the wind knocked from me as I shot awake. Heart pounding as I suddenly didn’t know where I was. It was dark and small and smelled wet. As I tried to find my bearing I stumbled off whatever I was laying on and fell chin-first onto a solid wooden flood. I saw stars for a moment before everything seemed to clear up.

            “Fuck,” I sighed as I leaned against my makeshift cot. My eyes adjusted to the light of my recently claimed warehouse. “Kirkwall, the warehouse district on the docks.” I quietly reminded myself. A few deep breaths to steady myself, and I was awake and aware once more.

            Nightmares. Just what I needed. A target on my back, barely a place to stay, and now I was having nightmares. No, fuck that. I decided to file it away in my brain somewhere it would be forgotten. There was too much going on in my day-to-day to also worry about juggling my subconscious. I wasn’t going to think about it. Wasn’t going to worry about. Just forget about it entirely.

            It didn’t matter.

            It didn’t.

* * *

 

            “I must say when Bethany said you lived in a warehouse I pictured something a bit more lived in.” Hawke commented as he stepped within my threshold. Yesterday, Merrill was determined to learn exactly where I was staying, and frankly it was difficult to avoid the truth when being stared at by those wide alien eyes along with Bethany’s inquisitive stare. I didn’t think, however, that telling them would prompt a visit by the whole group the very next day.  
            “I’m still in the process of moving in.” I tried to roll with the punches and bury my annoyance from the intrusion. “Speaking of, where is my moving in present? That kind of think is customary, you know.”

            “Oh, I can think of something fitting.” Isabela said in her seductive crooning. “I could help you break in the bed.”

            “You know, the movers seem to have lost the bed on the trek.”

            “That’s okay, you’ve still got walls.” She leaned in close and winked. “And I’m very flexible.”

            I suppressed a groan and pressed my lips into an admittedly forced smile.

            “Don’t worry, Showman. She’s mostly teasing.” Varric said patting my arm as he moved further in. The warehouse I was living in was at a corner of the docks that had been hit hard by storms in the past few months. Because of the damage to the main store area it laid abandoned. The office off the second floor, however, was left mostly untouched by the weather. The stairs leading to it were bit worse for wear and I found myself occasionally battling mold, but it was secluded and the rent was cheap. Squatter’s rights and all that.

            “You know, it’s also customary to give someone a head’s up when they’re planning on coming over.” I gave Varric a look.

            “Where’s the fun in that? Who doesn’t like a good surprise.” He chuckled in response.

            “Please at least tell me you brought drinks?” I asked exasperatedly.

            “Broody’s got that one covered. He’s brought a few bottles from his own private store.”

            On cue, Fenris lifted his arms to display two bottles of red wine. He handed me one when I gestured towards him. My mouth just about hit the floor when I saw the label. “Where did you get Aggregio Pavali? This stuff runs more than a sovereign a bottle!” I marveled at the liquid.

            “You know your wine.” Fenris said it like a statement but I got the feeling it was more of a question.

            “The wonders never cease. Don’t tell me you’re a practicing sommelier as well, Showman?” Varric grinned as he pulled a small notebook from his belt and began jotting notes.

            “What? No, I uh, I just knew a noble once who liked the stuff.” I tried to shift the focus back to Fenris. “But seriously, where did you get this?”

            “It came with my mansion.” He replied dryly.

            “Yeah, sure. No, really?”

            He quirked an eyebrow at me before shooting a look towards Hawke. The man simply nodded. Garrett seemed very interested in inspecting the fine details on the soggy woodwork of my walls.

            Isabella wove the tale, seemingly doing her best to imitate our dwarven friend. “It’s true. The place belonged to his old master, git wasn’t there, but we still went in, killed his men and stole the house.”

            “Rightfully stole.” Fenris amended with a pop of a cork.

            “Alright fair enough.” I said amused by his consistently blasé manner. “I suppose you and I have similar ideas about procuring homes.”

            “Perhaps, though my tastes in real estate are a bit higher profile than yours.” A smirk paired with a glint of confident eyes.

            “Oh, you got him to make a joke!” Isabela preened shoving into Fenris and causing him to roll his eyes. “Do it again!”

            “It took me weeks to get that kind of response!” Varric joined in.

            “Where should I put these?” Fenris asked, determined to ignore the playful attention of the rogues.

            “Uh, just put them wherever. I don’t really have a table at this point, but a couple of the crates don’t have any rot.” I shrugged.

            “Maybe we should have brought a table or something.” Varric suggested. “Or at the very least some chairs.”

            “But what if they clash with the Orlesian tapestries I’ve ordered?” I countered. “I’ll have you know I’m very particular when it comes to interior decorating.”

            The dwarf chuckled. “Alright, let me know when they come in and we’ll find you something to match.”

            “Deal, but I’ll have you know I have expensive tastes in home decor.”

            “Clearly.” Fenris added monotonously.

            I felt a light hand on my elbow and flinched slightly as I turned to see Bethany. With the crowd, I almost hadn’t noticed her.

            “Sorry to barge in on you Isaac. But when I mentioned to my brother I learned where you lived he got it in his head that he needed to ‘return the favor’ of an unexpected visit.” She said apologetically.

            “Just be happy she talked me down from painting your door red. I even bought paint.” Garrett commented from the other side of the room.

            “You’ll never let that go will you Garrett?” I sighed.

            “Oh, I will once Uncle Gamlen does. He seems to think it’s all my fault.”

            “Glad to hear the old man is as hospitable as ever.”

            After a while of poking through my scarce belongings and asking me about the place, Varric produced a deck of cards. We pulled the crates into a circle for a hand of Wicked Grace. It was cramped and a couple of us needed to share a box to sit on—though we made sure Fenris and Anders were far from one another. It was nice. Quaint. Varric even let me win a few rounds. After a few hands, Isabela got bored and decided to entertain herself by going through my belongings in real depth. Anything of real value was on my person so I wasn’t too worried. Until she found my journals.

            There were six books bound in different styles with varying degrees of age and use. Most of them filled with song lyrics I was worried I’d forget, but all of them were written in English. I almost wished I hadn’t risked pulling them out of Darktown the other night. If only to keep them from my nosey guests.

            “Oh, what are these?” She sang as she pulled them out of their spot. She flipped through them haphazardly. Her eyebrow quirk as she saw the writing. “It this a cipher? Are you hiding your naughty thoughts in code?”

            I stood from my box, almost kicking it over in the process. The others stared at my sudden movement. _Shit. Be cool. It’s fine._ “Ah, no those are just where I keep my songs and stories; so I don’t forget them.”

            “You write song lyrics in code? Wouldn’t that make them harder to remember?” Varric asked.

            I forced a laugh. “You know all too well the story telling business is competitive. Wouldn’t want another performer stealing my show.”

            “That’s why you usually have them published with your name.”

            “Have you seen where I live, I couldn’t afford the publishing fee.” I gestured around the room. Good. This was good. This was believable.

            “I could always introduce you to my guy. I’m sure we could make a deal of some kind.” Varric offered.

            Not good. “Ah, maybe? I’m more of a performer than I am a writer.” I made my way over to Isabela and took the book from her.

            “No need to be so handsy…at least not like that.” Isabela couldn’t even protest something without innuendo.

            “Sorry.” I glanced out one of the broken windows as I stuffed the books back into their alcove. “Is it that late already?”

            “The sun’s just barely gone down.” Hawke replied.

            “I’ve got an early morning tomorrow. Do you mind if we call it here?” I started replacing the corks in the wine bottles.

            Garrett looked like he wanted to protest but his sister held him back. “Sure, we did come without warning after all. Next time we’ll let you know ahead of time.” She assured me. They left in a group, some making further plans for the night while others agreed to an early rest. I practically shooed them through the door muttering goodbyes as I ushered them out. Exhaustion weighed me to the ground and I slid against my door. As if in some feeble attempt to keep any further intruders out.

            I felt like I had one foot in my grave and I kept on digging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edits:1/22/2018


	11. Culling of the fold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been gone for a bit, but I'm back and determined to see this through.  
> From now on I'll be uploading every Monday for the foreseeable future.  
> Thanks for the patience of anyone who waited.  
> And thanks to everyone who reads.

            It turns out that despite everything…I am one lucky son of a bitch. Not long after my impromptu housewarming party, Hawke mentioned his little neighborhood watch efforts to me. Even invited me to take part.

            “I know you’ve had issues first-hand with the gangs so I figured I’d see if you wanted to tag along when we go to clean them up a bit.” Garrett said after a round at the Hanged man.

            “Garrett, you beautiful bastard, nothing would make me happier than to help clean up our lovely streets.” I beamed a wicked smile. My previous employers were hardly a good reference for me anymore. It was about time they shut their doors for good.

            “Glad to hear you’re in. Varric, care to help as well?” Hawke continued recruiting.

            “I can help you on the information side of things, but with the expedition so soon I’ll be busy with finalizing the plans with Bartrand for the next week or so.” The dwarf informed him apologetically. “You got names or anything to go on so far?”

            “Actually yes.” Hawke pulled out a familiar list from his pocket. It was the same one I had seen in his house not long ago. “One of Aveline’s guards slipped me this a while back. We’ve crossed off a few already but the ones left have been rather difficult to get a handle on.”

            Varric hummed. “Some of these I’m familiar with…as for the others I’ll see what my contacts can dig up.”

            I not-so-subtly peeked over Varric’s shoulder. “Oh.” I said, laying the bait.

            “What is it?” Garrett asked. Hook, line, and sinker.

            “Well,” I made sure to sound a bit reluctant. “This one here,” I pointed to the page. “The Jackals, they operated near where I used to live in Darktown. Mostly a group of thugs, smugglers, and thieves. They generally just rode the coattails of other gangs and used their alliances to intimidate people.”

            Fenris grunted. “They sound like cowards.”

            A short exhale escaped my nose. “No arguing with you there.” I turned back to Hawke. “These are the type of people who gang up on the weak to exploit their fears. Honestly, it’s a popular tactic in Darktown.”

            Hawke hummed thoughtfully. “And you say you know where their base is?”

            “Just about. They took my coin on more than one occasion.” Not a lie. “Honestly I’d sleep better knowing they were taken care of. Doubly as well if I got to help do it.” Also true.

            “Alright, tell us everything you know and we’ll make a plan to go after them.”

            I told him as much as I could, mixing in vague descriptions and the occasional inconsequential lie. There really wasn’t a point in letting my friends know that I used to count myself among those thugs and thieves. I was being especially careful to get my story straight this time. I didn’t need careless inconsistencies making them doubt me. Together we came up with a plan for a raid; we decided we would go early morning when they would be the least active. We would hit the offices first and clean up whatever was left from the barracks. For the first time in a long time, I whistled as I walked home from the hanged man; feeling every bit as giddy as “forget you” was upbeat.

* * *

 

            “It’s just going to be the four of us?” I complained as we made our way to the elevator. Unease began creeping its way back into me. For more reasons than one.

            “We’ll make less of a fuss wandering into Darktown with just the four of us. If we went with a whole battalion of Aveline’s guards we’d wake half the city, never mind Darktown.” Hawke explained.

            “I hope this is all we need.” I muttered.

            “It will be enough.” Fenris grunted.

            “Forgive me if I don’t share your optimism.” I replied, seething in sarcasm.

            “We’ve done this kind of thing before Isaac.” Bethany put a hand on my arm. “We’re actually a bit better off than we usually are.”

            “Thanks to you we know their base of operation, a rough estimate of their numbers, and the times when they’re most active.” Hawke began listing off.

            “Yeah, I guess I’m just feeling a bit twitchy.”

            Hawke hummed. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back if you’ve got ours.”

            Those were the words I was hoping to hear, but somehow it didn’t help my nerves much. “Thanks.”

            I led the group down the elevators and past the more residential areas to what some might consider the business district of Darktown. A place so deep and dark only the shadiest of individuals would consider setting up shop. I took the long way around, it was quieter on average. Less guards, more corners; it set us back on time but probably saved us a fortune in blood.

            We came upon a corner lit by a wall sconce; the leg of chair was just visible around the bend. The corner of a boot just barely poked out. I signaled for the group to stop. Fenris and Hawke began drawing their blades but stopped when I through my hands up. I motioned to the sconce hoping Bethany would catch my drift. She did and within moments the flame was doused by a small crystal of ice.

            “What?” The scraping of wood on stone announced the man’s movement almost before his words revealed his confusion. “Who’s there?”

            We waited against the wall in the shadows until the man crept closer in the pitch-black hall. The small pattering of his footwork betrayed his position; all I had to do was wait until he was close enough to strike.

            I thrust my dagger out catching a large body in the side.  He grunted in pain before trying to talk, but I twisted and removed my blade too quickly.  The only sound that escaped him was a pitiful gurgle and a limp thump as he slid to the ground.

            I fished around my pocket for the amber stone.  It must have given off an exceedingly eerie glow as I faced my companions, because their expressions seemed a little disconcerted.  I lent down next to the body to find his insignia: a small patch sewn inside of his sleeve that marked him as a Jackal.  Sure enough, it was right where I expected it to be.  I lifted his arm up to the group and quietly said.  “We’re in the right place.”

* * *

 

            We travelled down countless similar corridors with similar or less security before we reached the door to the base.  It wasn’t often that I came down here this way when I was still a member of the crew, so it felt particularly off coming this way when I was distinctly not a member.

            I spoke in a low tone.  “This is it.  Their hideout. I don’t know how many members there are.”  There had been too many changes to the organization lately.  “But we should find most of them here.”

            “Ok, how do you want to play this?”  Hawke asked me.

            It was honestly a little surprising, I know I was presenting myself as the resident expert on the Jackals, but Hawke was always the leader. “We might catch a break, find some easy rooms, sleeping people…” I mused.

            Hawke frowned visibly. I couldn’t see Bethany’s expression from where she stood behind her brother, but I can’t imagine it was much better.

            “I don’t like the idea of cutting throats while people sleep.”  Hawke finally said.

            “Neither do I.”  Fenris agreed.  “We should be more than enough to clear out this rat’s nest.  I say we just go in.”

            I twitched.  “Not for nothing, but honor doesn’t mean much this far down the city.  We can’t be better than our enemies if they get the better of us.”

            “I agree we can’t go in without a plan, but we aren’t here to kill everyone.  We want to apprehend who we can.”  Hawke explained.

            My heart felt like lead.  Garrett and I had different ideas about what crossing names off of lists meant.  In hindsight, I should have realized.  He was a good man.  I was not. I was, however, a clever man.

            “Ok, how about this: I scout ahead, quietly, and see if I can find the boss’s office.  That way we can find the big player and I can learn how to get you all in quietly.”  Let me at least get a chance to quietly get rid of those that know me.

            Hawke thought for a moment before agreeing.  “You have ten minutes; five minutes to scout five minutes to get back.  After that, we’re coming in quiet or not.”

            A Cheshire’s smile curled over my lips. “Ten minutes.”  That was all I needed.


	12. Two Evils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things are settled.

            Slowly, I pressed the door open. Creaking hinges betrayed my infiltration, but I wasn’t worried. Usually the hideout was filled with a generous amount of ambient noise either from the training rooms or the drunken commotions that poured from the mess hall on a regular basis.

            I never ventured too deeply within these halls—not in recent days anyway. There wasn’t much need to; the barracks were closer to the main entrance—which was more convenient—and past that were just storerooms and offices. My last few days with the Jackals I had access to neither.

            If I remembered correctly, this door was connected to a larger hallway that led to the innermost bowels of the den. I would have to move quickly, but it would be a straight shot to just about anywhere I could possibly want to go.

            Gently, I closed the door behind me. The hall was dimly lit; the closest sconce was maybe fifteen feet down. Directly across from me was another door that led to a store room. To the left were the offices, and to the right the barracks. I had no time to waste; ten minutes would be cutting it close, but if I was lucky I might not face much resistance. And hell, I was feeling pretty good about my streak as of late.

            Harimond would be in his office just next to the bedrooms, but the boss would be in the other direction. In an ideal world, I would have been able to take them both out, but I only had the time to get to one of them. It was hardly much of a choice; there was still Finch to deal with after all. I just crossed my fingers that she was in the barracks. It was a gamble, but I was all in.

            I threw my hood up as I skulked down the right path. I doubted I’d run into too much trouble as long as I kept my head down. People didn’t ask questions down here. Perks of working with secretive bastards.

            I highly doubted there would be too many slobs milling about this time of day. Most of them would either be asleep or drinking to the previous night’s success. Or drinking away failure. The jackals were primarily a nocturnal group, which meant that when regular folks were busy at work we would be getting piss drunk, and vice versa. No, not “we”; not anymore.

            My heart hardened. The group was a decent source of shelter and income for a time, but nothing more. There were no friends down here. No memories worth keeping. No sentiment. And obviously, no loyalty.

            Walking the hall once more, I felt like I had a better understanding of the place. I had only been gone for a few weeks, but the lights seemed darker, ceilings lower, even the smells more pungent. I don’t know how I stomached the place for as long as I did. It was better off buried.

            I passed an open door to one of the mess halls. A quick scan of the occupants confirmed a heavy state of inebriation amongst the patrons. None of whom were my targets. I kept walking. Just a few more paces. I decided to find Harimond first. He was easy. The door to his office was open halfway. I listened for a moment to confirm he was alone.

            Then I did what I did best: faked a voice, hid my face, and made my way into the room making sure to close the door behind me. He was too easy. He always was too comfortable behind that desk of his; as if he left his guard on a hook by the door like a hat. A precise dagger toss brought him down before he even knew he was in danger. His eyes filled with rage as I stood over him. He took the finishing blow quietly; not that he had much of a choice with the first dagger imbedded in his throat. I collected his body and shoved it in the space under his desk. Found a lovely pouch of smoke bombs in the process. Those would have helped Old Hari if he was paying attention. Waste not, want not.

            I quietly closed the door as I left, affixing a small sign to the door. Anyone who knew Harimond knew never to bother him when the sign was up. That gave me some time before was discovered.

            Next stop the barracks.

            They were the same as I remembered them. Though much like the halls they seemed even more unpleasant to me now. The heaving breath of filthy bodies grated my patience. The depressing murals on the walls stared me down almost as if they had some morbid knowledge of my plans. Oh, if these walls could talk, how would they remember me?

            I walked among the row of cots; stepping silently past the few sleeping bodies that lay on them. Evidently, the maker was on my side. Only 3 tenants were making use of their beds, and one of them had a mop of well-groomed blond hair.

            She lay facing away from me, but by the movement of her shoulders I assumed she was still asleep. Silently I drew my dagger and poised to strike. This woman, did she even understand what she was doing when she led me into the sewers that day? I suppose she never did fuller comprehend the creature that I am. I drew my dagger to rest just under her chin.

            Suddenly I stilled. Finch’s breathing changed, slowed even further like she was controlling it carefully.

            “So, you’re here to kill me Ball Sack?” She whispered to the blade.

            My blade hand didn’t so much as twitch when I whispered back. “That’s right. Thought I’d return the favor.”

            “I didn’t want you dead.” She replied with admirable control of both tone and cadence.

            “You have a funny way of showing it.”

            “After that deal with the Carta went south, no one trusted you. You know that. But the boss knew you trusted me.”

            “Yeah, I can see that was a mistake now.” Venom poured from me as quietly as I could manage.

            “I didn’t have a choice. You know I didn’t have a choice.”

            “What did they offer you?”

            “Isaac, they didn’t-” She started before I cut her off.

            “Don’t you fucking start. I know you too well to know they couldn’t threaten you with anything, which means they offered you something instead.”

            She was quiet for a moment. I was almost annoyed that I couldn’t make out her expression, but it wasn’t worth risking the upper hand. No matter how satisfying it would be.

            “I would have been an officer.” She finally admitted.

            I chuckled lowly. “Well I can see that didn’t happen if you’re still bunking with the rest of these dogs.”

            Another pause. “So, what are you waiting for?”

            A deep breath and long exhale. “Not much I guess.” I began drawing my blade over her neck when a sudden commotion broke out. There was shouting and the sounds of combat behind me. Shit, I took too long.

            The other two sleepers weren’t unfazed by the commotion either and quickly roused. “Hey!” One of them shouted as they noticed me.

            “Shit!” I exclaimed trying to finished the job, but they were one me too quickly. One kicked out my knees as the other grabbed my arms; forcing them behind my back. The unnatural twisting caused me to drop my blade.

            In one swift motion, Finch kicked herself off the bed managing to get me in the nose in the process. She stooped to retrieve my dagger as I was forced to my knees. “You should have finished me when you had the chance.” Finch slammed her fist against my temple, knocking stars into my eyes.

            “Finch, what should we do with this one?” One of the thugs holding me asked.

            “Keep him alive for now. I imagine the boss would have some words for him.” She stroked the hand used to strike me. “I’d bet he has something to do with whatever’s going on out there.”

            Down the hall the commotion continued. It almost sounded like it might be getting closer, but it was hard to hear over the rush of blood in my skull. Shit. I should have slit her throat quietly before she woke up. It would have been quick and clean. Over my shoulder, the man was glaring down at me. I didn’t recognize him, but that hardly mattered given the situation.

            “Fenley, go grab some rope.” The man ordered the other.

            “Be careful with Isaac, he’s slippery.” Finch warned as she strode towards the door. “I’m going to check that out.”

            “Right.”

            Finch jogged down the hall and away from me. The man, Fenley, started rifling through chests and bags looking for something to bind me with. Seemingly to no avail. “Do we even have rope in here?” He questioned in annoyance. He must be new.

            “It doesn’t have to be rope, just find anything to stop him moving!” The first man barked, his gaze leaving me and focusing on his companion. It was just the opening I was hoping for.

            I pushed off the ground with all my strength, twisting myself over my own arms like a gymnast. I wasn’t as flexible as I used to be so my muscles complained as I brought myself through the full rotation catching the man’s head with my legs. He released my arms as soon as my feet made contact. I sunk one of my daggers into his neck at the first opportunity.

            “Booker!” Fenley shouted. A dangerous fury weighed down his brow as his pulled a small knife from his boot. “You’ll pay for that!” The man dashed at me with a flurry of blows. But they were slow and so was he. I made quick work of the newbie.

            I whipped the blood from my blade, tossing thick droplets across the room as I made my way towards the door. There was no sign of her in either direction of the hall. “Finch!” I shouted. Stealth be damned, she was getting away. I doubted anyone would be interested in one man shouting over what I presumed to be Hawke’s ambush.

            I jogged by Harimond’s door. It was open. So, she found him then. But she wasn’t in there, which meant she went towards the mess. Fine, she wanted a goose chase, then I’d give chase.

* * *

 

            It wasn’t long before I found Hawke’s group. They were locked in combat in one of the common areas. Their opponents weren’t greatly skilled, most of them had been drinking, but the sheer number of them kept the crew busy. They were holding their own.

            I scanned the room for all the positions I knew Finch liked to take in battle, nothing. Well, she always did know better than to get involved in a hopeless cause. I kept moving. Stalking her down like a prey animal. Inside me rage grew and grew like an untamable flame.

            But I knew where Finch would be. I knew her background, her fighting style, and I knew her hideaways. After all, I knew Finch.

            On the way I bumped into a few stragglers, they were more preoccupied in escaping than engaging. That was fine by me. Let the rats scatter.

            The door to the storeroom was stuck. Some kind of makeshift barricade must have been thrown up; the lock had been broken since before I even joined on. Maintenance was never a priority to the Jackals. With little choice, I threw myself against the door. A small nudge. Again. Again. Again!

            Behind, something clattered to the floor as the door opened with a wretched scraping noise. It was just enough space for me to slip in. The torches were doused leaving the room under a sea of shadow. With all the noise from the door, Finch would be on to me. I moved slowly, backing against the walls. A number of shelves and crates stood stacked about the room. Any one of them could be shielding her from my grasp.

            I let my eyes adjust to the light before taking any risks. Certain that she was hiding somewhere, I kept myself vigilant for any signs of movement. Though knowing her, she wouldn’t make a move until I did. Not until I was within her kill zone.

            It was quiet. The echoes of the distant fight barely seeped through the crack in the door along with the thin stripe of light. The floor was wet, condensation accumulated easily this far down. I chanced a step forward keeping one palm along the wall for guidance. Then another. Soon, I was making my way toward the back in silent strides.

            Something was off. The shelves had been moved. In a split-second decision I ducked backwards narrowly avoiding dagger as it glinted down.

            “There you are.” I smirked.

            Finch had waited in a space between two shelves for me to cross. A grunt escaped her as she missed her surprise attack. She wasted no time lunging for me again. This time I redirected her slash towards the shelf and made a grab for her arm. She used my momentum against me, however, and spun into a roundhouse kick catching me in the jaw. I stumbled back for a moment, feeling the blood from my lip. I dipped my head to the side as I readied my stance. “Same old Finch.”

            It was almost nostalgic the way we traded blows, like how we used to spar together on off-times. But this was different. Neither us yielded when the blades came too close. Neither of us shied away from drawing blood. Both of us were after the killing blow.

            I shoved the contents of the closest shelf down on top of her causing her to momentarily stumble back. She expected me to lunge through the debris at her; I counted on that. Dropping to my feet, I rolled around toward her back only to be kicked out of the way before I could land a hit. I guess she was cleverer than I gave her credit for.

            I staggered to my feet to find her blade pointed at my neck. Her scowl spoke volumes. “It didn’t have to be like this.”

            I frowned, disappointed by her sudden naiveté. “Yes, Tweety, it really did.” In the blink of an eye I was on her again. Her blade just caught my shoulder as I grabbed her wrist and, with all my strength, forced her elbow the wrong way. Her blade clattered to the ground as a loud snap was drowned by her screams.

            Her foot came between my legs in a last-ditch effort of victory. I went down hard, recoiling and panting heavily. But to my surprise the killing blow didn’t come. I struggled to pull my head out to see what she was doing, but she was gone. She had run away.

            “Oh no you don’t.” I forced myself to my feet, finally feeling the blood rushing from my shoulder and every other shallow cut she had dealt me. “Fuck.” I slipped my way towards the door, pushing through the small gap. For a moment, the light of the hallway blinded me, but before long I could make out Finch’s form as she hobbled away.

            I steadied myself, sucked in a deep breath, and with my last good arm launched my blade at her. It landed with a wet thump in her lower back, and she went down with a small cry. Slowly, I made my way towards her. The dagger hadn’t finished it. She was still trying to crawl away. After everything, she still seemed to think she could get out of this alive. Idiot.

            I pinned her down with my knee. She made a few pitiful attempts to throw me off. “Last words?” I asked flatly.

            She was crying now, whether it was from pain or fear I didn’t know. But it was something new to see at least. “You don’t understand. You don’t know how much…how far I’ve come.” She said through labored breaths. “I had no choice. They gave me no choice. I couldn’t throw away all I’d worked for. After everything that happened.”

            I stared at her disinterestedly. “You don’t know what I’d overcome either. You didn’t seem to care.”

            More sobs. “That’s not true. We…we were friends once.” She pleaded.

            I leaned in close to her ear. “No,” I twisted my blade, “We never were.” With that I ripped my dagger from her back and watched her bleed out. I waited until I felt her pulse stop before getting off of her. That at least was done.

            “Isaac!” I spun around at the call of my name to see Bethany standing in the hall. She looked a bit battle-worn but healthy overall. But the look on her face was one of absolute horror.

            Shit, how much had she seen? I tried to quell the adrenaline that was making my entire body shake. “Bethany? Are you ok?” I moved to take a step closer, she flinched back slightly.

            She shook her head and plastered on a forced smile. “I’m fine. Brother said he saw you run this way. I was looking for you.” Her eyes were still terrified.

            “Oh.” Keep it together, maybe she hadn’t seen all of my little melodrama. “Are Garrett and Fenris doing alright?”

            “Yes, they finished just before I set out to find you.” She said woodenly. “We should get back to them. They’ll be worried.”

            “Right.” I agreed. Bethany didn’t move until I was right by her side, letting me overtake her somewhat in our paces. She didn’t trust me with her back. Shit. Why didn’t anything ever go according to plan?


	13. Black Flies

            Bethany and I didn’t talk.  Not on the way back to the others, not on the way back to the surface. Hawke and Fenris were busy talking about maker-knows-what—swords maybe? They paid little attention to the awkward pair that followed behind them.

            Bethany, to her credit, didn’t say anything about our exchange in the hallway, but she was hard to read. Before, I wondered how she managed to stay under the templar’s radar for as long as she did, but now I understood. She seemed the type to wear her heart on her sleeve, but Bethany could mask herself away with the skill of an Orlesian bard when she needed to.

            I split off from the rest when we broke light citing exhaustion when Hawke tried to invite me to the Hanged Man to celebrate.  I couldn’t tell if Beth was relieved or worried when I turned him down. I didn’t linger on her expression regardless.

            My head ached.  My chest was tight. Something about the way she looked at me stung like daggers. Not something, I knew why her gaze alone made me feel that way. I just didn’t want to admit it.

            It was late afternoon by the time I made my way back to the warehouse and still I couldn’t quell the turmoil erupting under my skin. Light streamed into the room illuminating each and every dust particle in the air. My head hung heavy under the sill, fists clenching together like a vice.

            I don’t how long I sat there. Too long. And when the jitters faded, so too did I. The day must have taken a greater toll on me than I’d thought, because I slept until the next morning.

* * *

 

            It was fuzzy, but before I woke up I think I dreamt of Orlais…It was…Bittersweet.

         

* * *

   A tentative knocking pulled me from the Fade.  Stiff legs left me struggling to stand as I pushed myself out of my awkward sleeping position. I walked toward the door quietly; no sense in letting them know I’m home before I want them to know.  Whoever they were.

            Bethany.  I peered through the small peephole I made to the side of the door and saw the familiar stature of Bethany Hawke.  Even more surprising, she was alone. I waited until she almost turned to leave before I opened the door; half debating whether to even open up or not and half making sure the smile I plastered on my face seemed genuine.

            “Bethany, what brings you to my neck of the woods?” I said with as much cheer as I could muster.  None of it genuine, but she needed to see me in a better light after yesterday.

            “Isaac, can I come in?” Her face was neutral except for the slightest hint of concern.  It caught me off-guard, so without thinking I gestured her in.  By this point I had managed to scrap together some decent chairs and a table for the place; she made her way over.  She sat with folded hands in her lap, she looked down as I took the other seat. “Isaac…you worry me.”

            My heart clenched in my chest. I gave a weak smile. “Beth, I-”

            “Just let me say this.” She interrupted still looking down.  Quietly, she gathered her thoughts. When she worked up the determination she stared me dead in the eye. “You keep smiling. When everything goes wrong, when we almost die.”

            Oh no, I thought to myself.  She thinks I’m some kind of psychopath. But then, why did she come here alone?

            “You keep smiling. Even after last night.” She choked up somewhat as she continued. “You keep smiling.”

            I don’t like where this is going.  She heard everything between me and Finch, saw what I did to her.  She must think I’m a monster.  Maybe I am a monster.  Maybe I-

            “Isaac are you ok?” She took my hands with tears welling in her eyes. “You keep smiling, but I don’t think you mean it.”

            Oh. Oh, of course.  It’s Bethany.  My eyes became glassy as water gathered.  “Bethy, I’m fi-”

            “Don’t say you’re fine!” she snapped. “We know, we know you used to run with the Jackals. I know some of them were your friends. And I know those smiles are hiding a broken heart.”  She smiled sadly.  “I know because I wear them too.”

            I avoided her eyes, struggling against a betrayal of facial features. “How long did you know about the Jackals and me?”

            Bethany’s grip on my hands loosened. “Garrett had Varric look into you while you stayed with us.”

            “The whole time.” I kept my voice controlled, my face away. “You never said anything.”

            “I’m an apostate mage.  I’m not one to judge, and brother is careful of new people, but he doesn’t like to pry. Everyone has a past.”

            Even that paladin of a man, huh? “What if I was playing you? Using you brother as a human shield. Keep the guards and the Jackals off of me?” I blinked my eyes dry and faced her.  She was closer to me than I expected.

            “You could have left me that day in the caverns.  When I was panicking,” she drew in closer. “you didn’t have to sing to me, didn’t have to calm me down. You’re not half as bad as you think you are.”  Her voice was soft, intimate as she inched towards me.

            “I don’t know, I think I’m pretty great.”  I matched the tone, but stayed still.

            She frowned a little. “No, you don’t.”

            That made me recoil slightly, tears threatened to fall once more.  I stood from my seat and turned away. “Why are you here Bethany?”

            “I saw you yesterday, with the Jackal girl.”  She was crying now. “I don’t know what she said to you, but I saw your face afterwards and it broke my heart.”

            I spoke over the lump in my throat. “I killed her.”

            “I know.”

            “I wasn’t merciful. I watched her bleed out.” My fingers dragged against my scalp and threaten to pull the skin away from my spine.

            A little sob, “I know.”

            I turned my head toward her. “I killed her.” And slumped back into my chair as grief I didn’t know I was carrying fell from my eyes and lungs.

            Bethany draped her arms over me, crying too. “I know.”


	14. Two

            There was something about Bethany Hawke. Something about the way her eyes softened when she looked at you. Something in the way she spoke, gentle and compassionate yet demanding all the same. And there was something in the way she cried. With me. For me.

            Everything about Bethany Hawke made my guts churn and my heart ache.

            I wasn’t a good person. Probably never was, but for Bethany I wished I could be. I wanted to earn those soft glances, to speak with her on equal footing. I wanted to deserve those tears that fell on my behalf.

            But, how could I?

            “Bethy.” I rested in her embrace. Cold air followed the wet tracks down my cheeks to the corners of my mouth. “Thank you.” I lifted my arms to hold her back. She hugged me tighter.

            We just stayed like that...not talking, just…being there. With each other. It was warm and for the first time in years I realized how cold I was. When was the last time anyone held me like this? Not expecting anything from me, not lying to me just someone being there for me. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time anyone cared for me like this.

            I cried in her arms. Ugly, heaving sobs that I previously only suffered in absolute solitude—when I felt safe.  And honestly, I felt safe with Bethany. I felt justified in my grief, not absolved—not by a longshot—but she allowed me to cry without reproach. And that’s what I needed: to grieve.

            Maybe it was hypocritical of me but there was a part of me that was devastated to lose Finch…to lose Tweety. To lose a friend. I didn’t know if I regretted killing Finch or not, but I mourned her loss all the same. She was right, we were friends once and despite how things ended that counted for something.

            “Isaac, if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here.” Bethany pulled back when we both settled down. Her hands held mine still. “Just between us, don’t worry. I wouldn’t dare repeat anything you say; not even to brother.”

            I chuckled a bit. “I appreciate the thought, but I’d wager Garrett has ample resources to find out of his own accord.” I squeezed her hands in mine. A small, bittersweet smile took root. My voice grew much smaller. “I’m tired.”

            “Of course, I can come by another time.” Bethany loosened her grip and started to take a step back when I stood and tightened my hold. I chewed my lip lightly.

            “No, I mean, I’m tired of pretending.” I looked away from her eyes. “Of lying.” Those warm amber orbs, like the stone I found in the cavern and shone just the same. “I’m not from the Free Marches. I’m not the son of some noble or some maid or whatever stories I might have told you.” I released one of her hands so I could rake mine through my hair. “I’m tired of not having a single person in this entire world that knows me. I’m so tired.”

            She was silent for a contemplative moment. “So, tell me.” Bethany’s eyes were still warm when I looked up; warmer even. She continued, “If you think I don’t know you, then let me try to.” She lifted a delicate hand to my face, she gently traced the scar from my ear to my cheekbone. “I’m here. I’m listening.” Her eyes lingered on mine. “I want to know you, Isaac.”

            I traced her fingers with my own and sucked in a deep breath. I didn’t know how much of my story she’d believe, but she deserved to make her own judgements. A part of me was still reluctant to speak—what if the truth ruined whatever relationship it was that we had? But that part of me was eclipsed by a painful need to be honest for once in my god damned life.

            “Before coming to Kirkwall…I was in Fereldan and before that, Orlais…before that I was from somewhere far, far away…”

            I told her about a boy, barely sixteen, who awoke one day to find himself somewhere completely unfamiliar. A boy who learned of magic and pain and fear all at once. And I told her, how it was that I became a bard…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit of a short one, but the next couple should be a bit longer than average as we'll be delving into some backstory on Isaac.  
> Thanks as always to everyone reading


	15. This is How I Disappear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a heads up, this one gets messy.

            “Curious,” a woman’s voice drawled. Everything flitted between being too bright and too dark as my vision strained to focus. My whole body felt tense like I had somehow slept on a muscle the wrong way; only, it was every muscle.

            The sound of shifting pages caught my attention; it was like someone messily thumbing through a book. “It doesn’t look like a demon.” More pages flitted as the woman spoke, she had an accent—French maybe? “Ah! You foolish elf, you confused the glyphs!” The slap sounded just as my eyes finally cleared; just in time to see a lithe figure fall to the ground before an opulently dressed woman in a mask.

            The small figure curled into a bowing posture; like a devotee before an idol. “I’m sorry Madame Fascienne. I got confused.” He spoke with a different accent; English?

            “Maker.” The voice spat with disgust. “If not for your mother, I would have sent you away to the circle years ago.” Her tongue clicked behind her teeth. “But I am a generous woman. Stand, it is coming to.”

            As I took in my surroundings, I blinked furiously—confusion and disbelief slowing my comprehension. I was in a room of resplendent design; long decorative curtains covered windows that must have been ten feet tall. There was a large canopy bed off to one side; it’s woodwork carved in beautiful curling patterns and highlighted with gold filigree. The rest of the furniture was adorned in similar detail; as was the molding along the floor and ceiling. Even the dress the masked woman wore seemed to be designed with similar considerations. The man, in contrast, wore a simple shirt belted at the waist and brown pants.

            He stood to his feet and turned towards me. He was youthful—more a boy than a man. He might have even been younger than me. But there was something off about him. His features were far too thin, eyes too wide, and his ears pulled to sharp points on either side.

            “What?” I tried to ask but the sound that came out was more like a hacking cough that triggered a series of fits. My throat constricted around some unknown pressure.

            “Madame, what should we do?” the boy asked feebly.

            The woman replied as if it was obvious. “Find out what kind of creature it is, spirit or demon.”

            “Of course.” The boy muttered a string of words I couldn’t understand. When the coughing fit subsided and I lifted my face one again, I couldn’t believe my eyes. From the tips of the boy’s fingers a dull light hung in the air; he traced a series of unfamiliar figures before connecting the points into a circle. As he spoke the final word the image of light rushed towards me. I flinched as if expecting some kind of impact, but it just felt cold.

            “He’s…human.” He announced in confusion.

            “Human?”  the masked woman blanched.  She strode towards me with loud clicking heel. Her forceful hand pulled me up by the chin as she examined me. She hummed. “Is he a mage?”

            “I don’t think so, but there is something…odd about him.” The boy quirked his head to the side like an owl. “It’s almost like there’s a song about him.”

            “What is going on?” I finally managed to speak despite the strain.  The woman simply turns my head from side to side.

            “Curious, but he speaks trade.” She pulled my face back to center and said something in French.  She frowned. “I’ll take that as a no, then. Aurus,” she snapped her fingers. “A paralysis glyph if you would.”  She dropped my head and took a step back as lines of yellow light began to glow at my feet.  When they shone their brightest, I was petrified.

            My heart began to rush, I couldn’t move.  Not a finger, not my eyes, and worst of all I couldn’t breathe.  I tried to do something, anything but nothing worked.  I felt my pulse get faster and heavier as the pressure began to rise in my chest.  The last thing I remembered before fainting was the panic of suffocating and someone saying, “Something’s wrong.”

* * *

            When I woke the second time it was with a great deal less strain.  I was still a bit sore in a way that confused me, but movement came easier. This time, I found myself in a bed. It was nowhere near as extravagant as the canopy from before, but it was a comfortable enough twin. The strange boy, Aurus, was by my bedside. He seemed to be writing by candlelight. With a feather?

            “Where-” I started to ask, but stopped abruptly as Aurus jumped in his seat causing his journal to tumble towards the floor.

            “Oh! You’re awake! Maker.” He spoke each word in quick succession. “How are you feeling?”

            It sounded more clinically motivated rather than legitimate concern, but I answered all the same. “A little sore. Where am I?”

            “You are in the mansion of Lady Fascienne Boucher Bellamy. More specifically, you are in the servants’ quarters, in my room.” He watched me with those dark, wide eyes of his.

            “Lady? I don’t-I don’t understand. Where?” I blinked my eyes a few times trying to see if the world before me would dissolve.  Only it didn’t; if anything, it solidified.  It all seemed so surreal, the only lights in the room came from Aurus’s little candle and a large fireplace off against the wall. His clothing looked like he was cosplaying some fantasy character.  But his features, they seemed too alien to be the result of makeup or prosthetics.

            It had to be a dream then.  What were the tricks to see if it was a dream again? I found myself wishing I had made some kind of trinket like they used in Inception. But the checklist:

  1. Could I read?
  2. Did room transitions make sense?
  3. Could I feel pain?



            Feeling confident in my list I reached for Aurus’s book.  He protested but I cracked it open all the same. I smiled a bit to myself; it was all gibberish, weird squiggles, and made up scratching. One point to dream theory then. I wasn’t sure how I made it to this room from the last…so that put some stock in nonsensical transitions. But then there was the soreness, sometimes when I’d fallen asleep in a weird angle that transferred into my subconscious. But what about the suffocation? That felt real. Maybe something had fallen on my face while I slept, but wouldn’t I have just woken up?

            Too deep in my own head, I didn’t notice as Aurus summoned a force to pull the book from my hands back to his.  “That,” he said sternly, “is not for your eyes.”

            “Oh, sorry. I just…wanted to see if I could read it.” I blinked at him. My dreams weren’t nearly this demanding in the past. I wondered if it was stress?

            “And could you?” He looked me square in the eye, squinting accusatorially.

            “No, it was nonsense.” I gave him a weird look as I backed my head up.

            A sigh released his tense form and he closed the book before setting it carefully on the table. As far away from where I sat as he could manage. He readjusted before addressing me once again. “Who are you? What is your connection to the Fade?”

            “What’s the fade? Is that a band…or?”

            He blinked in disbelief. “The Fade? The world of dreams that borders our own? Home to demons and spirits of all shapes, kinds, and manifestations?”

            I gave him a blank stare.

            “You know none of this?” He seemed perplexed, as if he asked me what color the sky was and I told him orange. “It is the source of all things magic in this world. Where are you from that you wouldn’t know this?”

            “Chicago. Not much magic in that city. Unless you count the politicians’ disappearing pension tricks.” The joke seemed to fly over her head. I guess dad’s humor wouldn’t find an audience here. Normally my dreams laughed at all my jokes—bad or otherwise.

            “I’m not familiar with it, is it located in the Free Marches?”

            “What? No, Illinois.”

            A slight head tilt.

            “America?” No recognition in his eyes.  This dream was getting weirder and weirder; usually dream NPCs knew at least what I knew. For the most part they added on details—nonsensical details, but my subconscious was creative like that. Once I had a dream that I was Ferris Buhler during the parade scene and all the skyscrapers were giant balloons that were released at the end of the song and dance.  “So where in the world are we then?”

            “Orlais. To be more specific, just south of Val Firmin.” Aurus continued to watch me with fascinated eyes.  When my confusion deepened he quickly wrote something down. “You’ve never heard of any of it have you?”

            “No. Can’t say that I have.” I responded in attempted nonchalance.

            He nodded. “May I try something? Your hand please.” He extended his hand to me and I obliged.  Might as well play along. One of his hands was palm up, he placed mine within it, the other hovered above, fingertips beginning to glow.

            The next thing I knew I felt an intense electrical shock coursing through my body, like when you accidentally touch an outlet but amplified by a hundred.  I cried out and fell back out of the bed, knocking my head into the nearby wall. Okay, there was definitely pain; the odds of all this turning out to be a dream dropped to zero in my mind.  Whatever all this was, it was real.

            “What the hell?” I shouted when I came to my senses.

            Aurus looked legitimately shocked—he wasn’t the only one. “I’m sorry, I just meant to confirm a suspicion. That spell, it isn’t supposed to cause such a reaction.  Just a slight tingle.”

            “That was NOT a tingle! You nearly electrocuted me!” Rage bubbled in my throat as it combated my flight instinct.

            He flinched as I shouted for the second time.  For once his stoic face broke into an expression of regret. “I believed you had extreme reactions to magic, I just wanted to test my theory. I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intent to hurt you again.”

            Again. What did he mean by that? My head throbbed.

            “Yesterday, the paralysis glyph was simply meant to restrict your movement, not your…lungs.” His brow furrowed as his gaze shifted away from me.

            “Oh.” Then that suffocating feeling…that was him. This kid was able to- “Wait, yesterday?” I was asleep for a whole day?

            “Yes, after you collapsed the Lady had me bring you here to watch you.  We honestly weren’t certain you were going to wake up.”

            “No, you know what? This is crazy, you’re crazy, I’m probably crazy…I’m out.” I made my way towards the door. I didn’t know much about what was going on, but I knew that I was brought here against my will, suffocated, and electrocuted. I was leaving.

            “Stop!” Aurus called out as he made to follow me.

            I bolted. Wishing I was in better shape, I ran out the door into a long ornate hallway. My lungs didn’t hurt as badly as last night, but that wasn’t to say they weren’t working overtime. I didn’t know where I was going but as long as it was away I didn’t care. Orange light of sunset streamed through the tall windows lining the hall. More than once I nearly collided with more pointy-eared people. Elves. Some of them yelled at me to stop, but I ignored their cries. I wasn’t sure if I was being chased, but I ran and ran and ran until I came to a large grand staircase.

            And promptly fell ass-over-teakettle.

            Groaning I tried to push myself upright at the foot of the steps. I swore as I felt every new bruise, but nothing seemed broken. That was at least something I could be thankful for.

            That thought was cut short by the loud crack of two large doors being slammed open in front of me. A dozen men clad in full plate mail brandished swords as the entered the mansion. They bore the sigil of a sword flanked by what seemed to be laurels. They moved with militant precision. They reminded me of the honor guard of a Ren fair, but I a feeling these men weren’t hobbyists.

            “Our target is the Lady Fascienne! She may have more mages in her household so round up every maid, butler, and gardener. No one leaves, put down all resistance by any means necessary.” One of the men, in a particularly over-decorated bucket helmet, ordered.

            The rest of the force shouted their affirmations before dividing up and rushing through the property.  One stomped over to where I sat unceremoniously on my ass.  He raised his blade towards my throat. “By the command of the Templar Order, come quietly.”

            My hands shot up above my head instantly, I barely heard a word he said as the razor shape sword was trained on me. If I moved the wrong way all he would have to do was flick his wrist and my head could kiss my shoulders goodbye. “I don’t know what’s going on.” I said dumbly.

            “You will be silent.” I couldn’t see his eyes under the shadow of his helmet, but the way he spoke made me sure I didn’t want to. “To your feet!”

            I didn’t move, his weapon still too threateningly close for me to reasonable make it to my feet without accidentally impaling myself in the process. The man let out a snarl; the way it reverberated in his helmet made it seem beastly, unearthly…wrong.  Barely moving the sword away from me, he gripped the collar of my shirt and pulled me to my feet.

            “You have a death wish? Stand when I tell you too!” He backhanded me back to the ground almost as quickly as he picked me off of it.  His sword was trained back on me. “Now, boy, to your feet.”

            Shakily, I began to draw myself up, holding my hand out in front of me for as long as I could manage. My heart was pounding. Adrenaline coursing through me like rapids.  That’s when I started to hear the screams.

            The mansion was alight with terror.  I couldn’t see for myself, but it sounded like a slaughter. The march of metal on marble resounded like war drums.

            “Turn around!” The man with the sword barked. Slowly I obliged, praying that the shaking in my legs and arms weren’t volatile enough to provoke the brute.

            When I managed to turn towards the staircase I wanted to vomit.  Halfway up, a servant hung limply on the steps.  Her outstretched hand pointed towards me; it was red. Blood began to drip from her like a leaky faucet, slow and heavy. And her eyes…I’d never seen dead eyes before.

            I felt a slight prick behind me and my back ached reflexively. “Get moving!”

            I tried to. My head was screaming at my feet to move forward, but it was like I was held in another paralysis glyph. I was frozen in terror.

            “I said fucking move!” the blade inched toward my spin, just barely piercing the skin and drawing a small line of blood. I didn’t move. I don’t remember clearly what happened next, but the one thing I know for sure: I didn’t fucking move.

            When I came to my senses, I was pulling myself off a red carpet that covered the marble-floored foyer. It was wet.

            “We have to hurry.” Oh, I wasn’t pulling myself up, it was Aurus.  He held a death grip on my arm as he pulled me to the side of the stairs.  A quick glance backwards showed me an image of the iron-clad man impaled with icicles as thick around as my thigh. Briefly, they reminded me of the ice that hung roof of my home in the harshest winters.  Steam rose where clear water met opaque blood.  This time, I did retch.

* * *

            Aurus ushered me into hidden passage off the side of the grand staircase.  It was wide enough for two people to squeeze by, but not much more than that. A dim light glowed from small crystals mounted to the walls. The Passage seemed to extend farther down and in more directions than I could see.

            “Hurry, I don’t think the Templars will know to look for the servant’s passages but we shouldn’t waste any time.” The boy started down the passage, dropping his grip and trusting me to walk on my own.

            My skeleton threatened to run out of my skin I was so anxious. “What’s going on? Why are they killing people? Who are they?” My words came out a jumbled mess as we moved.

            Aurus tossed an exasperated look back at me; it didn’t completely hide the fear in his eyes. “Templars.” He continued walking, no longer looking back at me. “An army formed by the Chantry for the sole purpose of subjugating, and in some cases exterminating, mages.”

            “That woman on the stairs was a mage too?”

            He stopped for half a heartbeat. “No. She wasn’t.”

            Horror and disgust twisted my guts like a knife as he spoke, and I realized just how close I was to dying just a few minutes ago. Massacred in my ignorance of the world.

            We walked in silence for what seemed like ages. Not complete silence, we could still hear the fear and carnage continuing behind thin walls. Aurus twitched at every voice we passed. Every scream.  His fists never unclenched.

            After endless halls and two staircases we reached a door with a decorative seal carved into the wood. Aurus leaned his pointed ear up against it before carefully pushing it open.  It let out into the ornate room I had first woken in.  But it looked like a completely different world.

            The long curtains had been shredded and stained red. The bed, once gilded, was now painted in gore.  And the woman in center of the room was decorated in a similar fashion.  A delicate hand touched at the blood splatter on her mask.

            “Aurus, it is about time.” Lady Fascienne said mildly amidst a pile of Templar pieces. “I’m pleased you managed to find the boy in one piece. How fairs the rest of the estate?”

            “Poorly Madame, the Templars have overrun the mansion. They are cutting down any who show resistance.” Aurus bowed to his lady.

            Fascienne hummed. “Then we better put an end to such resistance. Boy, come here.” She beckoned me. If not for Aurus’ shoving I might not have stepped up.

            “What happens now?” I asked meekly.

            She tutted as she looked me over. “I’m going to put an end to this mad fiasco. I see you are not unscathed.”  She put two fingers to the cut on my back. I winced at the stinging sensation. When she drew back a small bead hovered over her fingertips. It took me a moment to realize what is was. A drop of my blood spun and danced in the air over her hand; she looked positively euphoric. “It seems you were correct Aurus, his blood is as potent as lyrium. This should suffice.”

            Clacking heals made for the door, I wasn’t sure but I almost thought the Lady was humming. Aurus followed dutifully behind her. Not wanting to stay in the room with the mangled corpses, so did I.

            I was wrong before, when I labelled the initial conflict as a massacre.  What the Lady was doing was a true massacre.  She strode calmly from room to room eliminating every bucket-wearing warrior.  Some bled out though their pores when she looked at them, others were eviscerated by the simplest hand gesture. I continued to follow in mystified disgust as the mage worked. But what shocked me most was the gratitude she was met with by her servants.  They stared at her like she was some blood-drenched messiah. I didn’t know how to see her.

            I’ll admit to feeling numb when it was all over. The household celebrated and mocked the fallen Templars.  They mourned their own losses—which I was told were few—and tended to their wounds. I just found a cushioned stool and sat my ass down.  I was staring at them all, as they moved here and there, but I didn’t see any of them. I didn’t see any of it. Two days ago, the closest I’d ever been to a body was at my great uncle’s funeral. Now…

            “I never got your name.” my eyes focused on Aurus, he was carrying bandages and a flask of water.

            “Isaac.” Someone replied. It must have been me.

            “Isaac.” He extended his hand to me. “I’m Aurus.”

            I looked up at him, with dim eyes. “I gathered,” was all I could manage.


	16. Dark Horse

            In the months that followed the Templars’ attack, I became a part of the Lady’ estate. In reality, I had no choice. I was sucked in before I had moment to think; after all the bloodshed I witnessed I was afraid of this new world I found myself in. But after that first night, I was safe with Lady Fascienne.

            She let me stay under a few conditions: that I make myself useful and that she would take noninvasive samples of my blood on occasion to study their properties. I was apprehensive about it at first, but quickly learned that it was a fair trade for meals and a roof over my head. And safety from the madness of this world.

            Despite her dangerous capabilities and despite her strict governing, the people who worked for the Lady seemed to genuinely like her. Or if not like, respect. They were wary of her, to be certain, but they were undyingly loyal. Aurus in particular seemed devoted to the extreme.

            Of everyone who worked for Fascienne, he was the one I became the most familiar with. I learned that despite his youthful appearance he was actually a year older than me. He told me that his mother had sent him to the estate when his magic began to develop and that she and the Lady grew up together. His mother was in her service from when she was just a girl to when she married a Fereldan trader.

            Aurus was the one who taught me everything; about magic, Orlais, and Thedas as a whole. He even gave me singing lessons. I didn’t know why he was so interested in educating me, but I decided to learn as much as I could. A little part of the back of my mind still hoped that somehow, somehow, I could go back home. And maybe, if I learned enough I could make it happen.

            That dream faded away after the first year or so.

            When I could read and write and recognize the Lady’ language, she also had Aurus teach me to fight. There was a large courtyard in the back of the estate surrounded by flowers and shrubbery. Behind the foliage, on a floor of carved stone tiles, I ran drill after drill attacking, defending, and dodging.  And every day, Lady Fascienne would sit in her elevated gazebo and watch me from behind her ruby and lapis encrusted mask.

            We continued on like that for some time, Aurus teaching me everything and Fascienne watching from a distance.  I started to forget about the way she cut down dozens of men with reckless abandon. Started to forget how much I missed my home.  Started to fall into routine.

            For that reason, when the Lady called me into her office for the first time my stomach fluttered with nerves.

            “Come in.” The call came muffled from behind the office doors. I moved slowly as she approached. I was like a kid being called to the principal’s office and no less anxious. With the straightest back I could manage, I sat in the chair she beckoned me toward.  The desk was as large and as decorated as I had come to expect of her but somehow even more finely detailed than I had imagined. It had scuffs and marks along the top indicating years of heavy use; in some cases, the wood was burned a darker shade—presumably by one of her magical experiments.

            Papers shuffled as Lady Fascienne gathered herself. “Isaac.” She started. “You’ve been with us for some time, no?”

            “Two years this summer, Madame.” I replied, she almost purred with satisfaction at the honorific.

            She hummed. “Yes, and in all this time you have not left my grounds.”

            This wasn’t exactly true. Two months after I first came to Thedas, I snuck out of the mansion in the middle of the night hoping to find…something else.  What I found were giants and wolves and bandits that I narrowly avoided and escaped before I wandered my way back to the safety of the estate.

            “I believe you are due for a change of scenery.” She spoke with the fluidity of poetry.

            Honestly, I was a bit stunned. I hadn’t considered leaving for two years. For all intents and purposes, this was my home now.  The idea of leaving it…left a bad taste in my mouth.

            All the same, she ignored my silence and continued. “It is time for you to become my Bard in an official capacity.”

            By this point I understood that a Bard was no mere minstrel.  They were spies and I had come to understand that it was through them that the Great Game was played. “Me? A Bard?” I stumbled a bit before remembering my manners. “Are you certain I’m suitable for the Task, Madame?”

            A painted smirk. “Quite. The Marquis Arnoult Duret is hosting a gala in his estate just east of Montsimmard. The Marquis has proven irksome to me in the past, I’m sure you remember the raid just following your arrival?” I shuddered at the memory. She took that as a cue to continue. “I have reason to believe they were templars under his employ.”

            My mouth went dry. “And you plan to go to this Marquis’ home? After everything those men did? After what you did to them?”

            I couldn’t see behind the mask, but I swore she raised an eyebrow at my impertinence. I bowed my head down quietly. “This is how the Game is played, boy. I would have though you smart enough to gather as much.” She stood from her place and began to pace by the large windows behind the desk. “The Marquis is not so bold as to try the same tactic as two years ago, again. He has secrets of his own, secrets that I have in rumor’s form now and will discover in full when we attend the gala.”

            She waited for an affirmation, but I had none to give her. I didn’t want to go to the gala. I didn’t want to leave the estate. I was afraid.

            Fascienne faced the open windows, her hands clasped behind her back. “Prepare yourself for a long journey. Have Aurus assist you in packing; he will know which uniform you will need. Dismissed.”

            I stumbled out of the room; a numb feeling contrasting my initial jitters. A million scenarios played out in my mind; all of them ending in a premature loss of life. I was so preoccupied by my own spiral of anxiety that I didn’t notice Aurus leaning against the wall just by the door until he called out to me.

            “So, you’re going with to the Marquis’ party.” His expression was as controlled as ever, arms folded casually over each other.

            I snapped to attention and tried to plaster a pleasant expression. “Why, Aurus, I didn’t see you there. Suppose we’ll be going on a little road trip then?”

            His eyebrows lowered—I didn’t realize they were raised. “You’ll have to control yourself better once we arrive in Montsimmard. The other bards will eat you alive if you show faces like that to them.”

            Frowning, I pulled at my earlobe. “I’m that obvious then?”

            “Yes.” He put bluntly. “Which is why I’ll never understand why Lady Fascienne insists on your attendance. If she wanted you for your blood then I don’t understand why she doesn’t just have me take a larger sample before we depart.”

            I tried to laugh off the way he suggested bleeding me dry; he saw through that too.

            An exasperated sigh described Aurus’ own feelings in fairly clear detail as he pushed away from the wall. “Come on then, we better get you suited up properly.”

            The suit in question was an arsenal in itself. It consisted of a blue and red doublet, more ornate than any of the clothing I had previously worn, and had various pockets and straps for hiding daggers, poisons, anything one could conceivably need to end a life whilst avoiding an overly boxy figure. Each boot had a compartment for a knife no bigger than my pointer finger; the pair was also high-quality design and material. The pants were nice, but had no secrets to them. Just pants.

            The pièce de résistance was a wooden mask carved thin and light and painted in the same rich blues and reds.  In a similar fashion to Lady Fascienne’s, the mask was decorated with curved filigree. Somehow though, mine was more masculine in design.  The difference was subtle but significant.

            “Don’t lose it, scuff it, or break it. The mask is a symbol of the Lady’s household; if the Lady thinks you are worthy to wear it then it will do you well to act like it.” Aurus said in mild distain. It wasn’t too far off from his normal tone, but there was more annoyance in the way he spoke than usual.

            “I’ll take care of it.” I assured him as I held the wooden piece in both hands.

            “Good, because a tarnish there is a tarnish on our Lady’s reputation.” He continued.

            “I got it.”

            “I should hope you do. This little excursion isn’t the place to embarrass yourself or this household.”

            A fuse sparked within me. “God—Maker, I get it already. Do you always have to be such a pompous fuck?”

            The glare he fired my way made me recoil, I’d never seen such emotion from him. “Finish packing your things and meet me in the courtyard. We still have to prepare you.” He turned on his quiet heel and made his way for the door, arms held behind his back.  His right hand was clenched tightly in his left.

            I stared at the door in the moments after it closed. In the solitude, my mind raced back to the stress of leaving the mansion. “Fuck.” I used to love traveling. Mostly for the wandering; seeing things I never had before and experiencing the adventure of it all. What happened to that wanderlust?

            I shook my head, hoping to banish unhelpful thoughts, and determined to summon my youthful courage. (Or was it naivete?) I was going to the Gala, whether I wanted to or not, and much like my initial arrival to Thedas,I would survive it.

* * *

 

            The travel to the Marquis’ palace was slow going. Aurus and I rode in Madame Fascienne’s carriage with her, which seemed odd to me at the time. We were part of a greater caravan of Fascienne’s servants and guards. From the outside looking in I’m sure we appeared more like a carnival caravan than a Noble precession. All of Fascienne’s carriage and carts were as colorful and ornate as her home and dress.  A foolish man might have described it all as gaudy. I was not a foolish man. (Not that foolish anyway.)

            Lady Fascienne was positively jovial, humming to herself and making meaningless conversation about birds that flew by or the “dreadful state” of nearby townships. Conversely, Aurus was growing more and more morose with each hoof-fall.  Both of which left me in awkward circumstances without any kind of escape. Not that noticed too much, I was busy just keeping my anxiety in check. That and compulsively taking in every sight we passed.

            Orlais was truly a beautiful country, lush green forests and meadows, the clear crystal waters of Lake Celestine, it was all gorgeous. So much so, that I often found myself forgetting my fear. It was surprising, pleasantly so, that I felt relaxed for the first time in nearly two years.

            Of course, that feeling came to an end when our Carriage stopped in front of the lavish home of Marquis Duret.

            I believed that living in Fascienne’s household had given me a good understanding of the word opulence. At the foot of the steps I realized, clearly, I was wrong. The Marquis’ estate was nearly double the size of my own Lady’s and similarly more decorative in its architectural design.  Another striking difference, was how colorful everything was. Where Fascienne had favored marble whites for her structure and only the natural green of the surrounding foliage to color her home, the Marquis had wall of blues and yellows offset by pearlescent white.  Even his absence of color was more colorful.

            I must have been gaping because a sharp jab from Aurus quickly drew me from my wonder.  I scrambled to plaster on the same air of apathy both he and Fascienne had donned long before exiting the carriage. If Aurus wasn’t so trained in his reactions, I swear he would have loosed a dramatic sigh at my expense.

            A valet met us early on and led us up the stairs and into the Gala. The rest of Fascienne’s servants and guards split off from us before we entered either being led off to the stables or to some other servants’ area. Evidently, a woman of her stature was only allowed a small entourage. The politics of Orlais reminded me junior high hierarchies; just as spiteful and petty.

            We were announced as a group, Lady Fascienne by name and Aurus and I as her servants. Most of the masked faces barely turned to acknowledge out arrival. And thus, the Game began.

            The Gala, it turned out, was a celebration of the Marquis’ only son completing his training to become a Chevalier. Apparently, it was also a chance for the nobles to present their daughters for marriage considerations. According to Madame Fascienne, however, it was also chance for Duret to root out potential enemies.  Especially those of mystic inclinations.

            I recognized every porcelain face I saw—Aurus had drilled me on the design of every noble family’s mask to the point that I could name it by a simple verbal description. For example, the Duret’s masks were made of fine metals and sculpted into round-cheek jovial expressions.  They connected to colorful cloth hats that wrapped around a firm base expanding out like the open end of an ice cream cone. Each hat was colored differently to describe a person’s station. Purple for the Marquis, red for his son, and greens and browns for their differing servants.

            Some masks covered entire faces, others only hid from the cheeks up. In some families, the length of one’s mask described one’s place in the family. Generally speaking the eldest of the heirs had the smallest masks, and when the youngest came of age they typically had masks that covered their entire faces.

            You could tell an entire family’s lineage by the minute details of their mask. This connects them to that family, this design delineates rank, that flour de lis proved a connection to the crown—no matter how slight.

            After all, Orlais was all about appearances.

            “Madame Fascienne, how lovely to see you again. Why I belive it’s been since Madame De Fer’s salon last spring.” A noble with a copper and green mask greeted. Fascienne fell into routine pleasantries effortlessly. Moments like these often made me forget the brutality that the Lady was capable of.

            “…And I just had to bring my latest project with. I could think of no grander debut.” Madame Fascienne gestured to me.  I gave my practiced, respectful bow.

            “How lovely. I was beginning to wonder if you’d ever bring him out for the world to see.  You’ve been dropping hints about him for ages.” The lord exclaimed with interest that could only be described as a formality.

            “Yes, I’ll admit to the temptation to keep him to myself.  But what point is there to the finest jewels if no ever sees you wear them?”

            “Too true, too true.” The man agreed mildly.

            Much of the day was spent in a similar manner: parading around nobles, pointless conversation, and thinly veiled conceit. One of the highlights, however, was performing. I was a Bard after all, I was expected to sing for those lovely people.

            It reminded me of school plays; the theatrics of it all.  I sang popular Orlesian ballads, lighthearted love songs, but by far the most popular part of my act were songs from home. I wrote them down my first few weeks in Thedas. They were a source inspiration and comfort at my lowest points even before getting displaced. I didn’t want to forget.

            Whenever I finished a song I was met with cheers and the approving look from my own Lady. Pride swelled and I began to forget why I was so afraid to come in the first place. Maybe I was being delusional, but these people seemed genuinely impressed by my abilities. It was a rush.

            “Come with me.” Aurus put a hand on my shoulder after I finished. Lady Fascienne had whispered something to him when I was working, neither of their expressions shifted in the slightest.

            I gave one final farewell to my adoring audience before bowing and following Aurus. “I gotta say this is better than I expected.” I moved with a spring in my step.

            Aurus responded with a noncommittal grunt. When he didn’t respond, I spoke to fill the gap. “Are they always like this? The parties I mean, not the nobles.  Well, I suppose I do mean the nobles, they through the parties after all.”

            Suddenly I pulled into a nearby closet; Aurus’ claws dug into my arm. “Can you shut up for five minutes?” He removed his mask to better stare daggers into my eyes. “This isn’t a day at the Fair.”

            I wrenched my arm away from him, annoyance boiling over in my chest. “What’s your problem? You’ve been pissy ever since Fascienne told me I’d be coming to this.”

            “That’s Madame Fascienne!” His volume was telling. After his outburst he replaced his mask and inhaled deeply. “We are not here to have fun. We are here to maintain the Lady’s standing and to get the upper hand on her rivals. You are too careless.”

            I pouted at him as I crossed my arms. “What are you talking about? Nothing’s even happened, just normal party stuff.”

            “In the first hour, the punch bowl was spiked by no less than three bards belonging to lessor nobles, in the second, Baron Desjardins’ formalwear was sullied by a clumsy server and an errant tray, and just minutes ago, the Lords Gelinaux and Maron retreated to this very closet for a romantic tryst unbeknownst to both of their wives.” Aurus sounded like he was reading a grocery list; he made the most salacious of court gossip sound mundane.

            “Oh.” I replied dumbly. “I didn’t realize.”

            An aggravated sigh, “That is precisely the problem.” He dusked his head from the closet momentarily to check for any unwanted ears. “Madame Fascienne has informed me that the residential quarters are primarily empty right now. The servants are all busy preparing dinner and most of the guards are playing suit of armor for the guests to gawk at. It’s petty, but a show of power nonetheless.”

            “Okay,” I replied, not quite catching on.

            “Alright then let’s go.”

            “Go?”

            A disdainful look found its target. “Yes. Must I spell it out for you? You know what? Fine. The Marquis’ quarters are empty, we’re going.”

            “I knew that.” I didn’t. “I was just playing with you, man. Let’s go!” I started out of the closet.

            Once again, Aurus caught me by the arm. “This is serious. If we get caught, be ready to use those daggers. The Game is one of prestige and scandal, life and death.” He stared at me grimly until I shook myself freed and gave a fake cocky response.

            “Then let’s play.”

* * *

 

            The halls of the residential area of the mansion were empty compared to the main dance hall, but that wasn’t to say they were abandoned. Maids still darted hither and thither doing various chores. While the majority of the security force was being displayed like toys soldiers, armed guards still walked the perimeter.

            Together, Aurus and I stalked through the corridors. He had a mind for floorplans that seemed to evade me.  It was one thing to see a room on a map but actually wandering monotonous halls and passing homogenous rooms left me disoriented. The repetition of grandeur in the décor left me wanting for a diverse simplicity that I hadn’t thought about in two years.

            Eventually, we found what we were looking for. The Marquis’ suite was guarded by a single, armed individual. I couldn’t see his face, but judging by his posture he was either apathetic about his job or asleep. I suppose it could have been both, really.

            A hand stopped me from approaching further—not grasping this time, just warning. Aurus pulled a small cylinder from his pocket. It had a long wick like a single firecracker. After checking down both adjacent pathways his called a small flame to his fingertips and lit the fuse. Then, he chucked the cracker down the right hall and away from the door.

            It fizzled for about twenty seconds before eruption with a loud pop. The guard jolted from his nap and snapped to attention. He wasted no time rushing in the direction of the sound. Evidently, he didn’t see the remains of the firecracker as he continued down and around the next corner.

            Aurus signaled me forward. I watched his back as he began picking the lock. My heart was racing. I’d never broken into anything before. The act came with a paranoid rush that somehow…I enjoyed.

            A precise click announced our entrance into the room. It was dark. The fireplace was unlit, the curtains drawn. The door led to a small sitting room decorated with lavish seating and a reading nook carved next to the window. Two other doors led off to the bed and washroom presumably.

            “Take the right.” Aurus instructed in hushed tones as he made his way towards the left door. Time was limited, there was no telling when the guard would return; no telling if he would still be alone.

            It was indeed the washroom to the right. I closed the door behind me as I took in the space. A clawfoot, ceramic tub stood on elaborate tile. A small cabinet with a mirror inside hung above a white sink. Without hesitation I opened the cabinet. It had much what I expected: a shaving razor and cup, a comb, basic grooming supplies. Knocking on the wall revealed no hidden compartment in the structure. No secrets.

            I was about to rejoin Aurus when my foot caught on something. One of the floor tiles has a small chip in it. Odd, you would think something like this wouldn’t be overlooked. I took the dirk from my boot and slid the blade underneath the chip. With almost no resistance, the tile pried up.

            Underneath was a small decorative box made of pewter. It had a small lock on the front, but a decent amount of pressure made quick work of it. It made a groaning noise as I broke into it causing me to freezing momentarily. When I was certain no one was coming to investigate, I opened the box.

            Pile of letters filled the entirety of the small container. Some appeared to be years old, if the page discoloration was anything to go by. I skimmed a few letters, eyes focusing on words like “love”, “secret”, and “our son”. I took a handful of the letters and shoved them inside my doublet, stowing as many as I could discreetly. A small golden shimmer caught my eye. At the bottom of the case was a locket; gold, but otherwise very simple in its design. The inside contained two small portraits. One of a brown-haired woman with sharply pointed ears. The other was the Marquis’ son.

            I grabbed the necklace, a sudden burst of adrenaline egged me on as I tried to put the box—now empty—back in place. I reached for the handle but found the door wouldn’t budge. Confused panic began to set in, amplified by high I was already feeling from the situation. It didn’t make sense; the lock was on my side of the door. I checked it several times but no matter which way I turned it there was no change.

            It was some kind of trap.

            It had to be, this was where the Marquis kept his secrets. Of course, there would be measures taken against possible thieves. This was all part of the game.

            I lowered myself to peek through the key hole. I could vaguely make out the shape of the furniture, but that was it. It was too dark to see anything.

            My throat was tight. I risked calling out to Aurus in a low voice. No response. I tried the handle again. Then Aurus. No response.

            Frantically, I began to search all over the door. There must be a stop or catch or something I can undo, I told myself. But I couldn’t find anything. I made mistake after mistake. And then I made another.

            I started to throw myself at the door, hoping to dislodge whatever mechanism held me captive. I was making too much noise, but I was too worried about being trapped to care. The room was getting smaller. There were no windows. No escape. Only that clawfoot bathtub and that loose tile.

            Then I was forced to the floor as the door flung towards me. For a moment I thought Aurus had finally heard me and come to help. I was wrong.

            “What in the Maker’s name are you doing here?” The guard stared me down.

            “I-I…” I couldn’t think. My heart was thrashing too loudly.

            He struck me with a gauntleted hand to my right ear. The world spun as an acute ringing clouded all other sounds. I don’t what the guard said to me as he continued beating me. Always returning to the right side of my face. I just felt pain and confusion and fear.

            I don’t know how long he wailed on me for. It might have only been a few minutes. It felt like hours.

            I didn’t hear what Aurus said to the man when he finally did come. But from what I could see, he bowed profusely. Whatever he said it was enough for the man to let him pull me off the floor and take me away. He stooped to grab my mask as he pulled my arm over his shoulders. I didn’t remember it falling off.

            My hearing didn’t return to normal until we were nearly back in the main hall. He pulled me off into of the servants’ chambers. “…I honestly can’t believe you were so careless.” Aurus continued a rant that I didn’t hear the beginning of. “Here, you’re bleeding is unsightly.” He handed me a handkerchief.

            I took it, still partially in a daze and held it to my ear. Aurus called over a servant and asked for some water and extra rags. I didn’t realize we weren’t alone.

            “I taught you to watch your back and the second I turn away you flail about like a quail in a trap.”

            I frown as the throbbing begins to take over. “Yeah, I get it. I messed up.”

            “Do you understand the position you’ve put us in? Your little show guaranteed that I couldn’t find anything. Not to mention the guard saw our masks, which means he’ll report to the Marquis. You’ve put not only the entire household in danger, but the Madame as well!”

            Something in me snapped. “I know!” I immediately regretted standing as soon as I did. Dizziness threatened to pull me back to the seat. I bit my cheek and willed myself to stand my ground. “But he let us go! Meaning that he had no evidence that we were doing anything other than using the wrong washroom.”

            A sever came by with Aurus’ items and we both took a breath. I returned to me seat and we both lowered our voices. He began washing the blood from my face. I wished we were alone, not just so he could heal my wound with magic, but so we could continue our shouting match. I wanted to shove what I found in his face. To boast that I was the one who found something of merit while he was faffing about. But we were in a household of eyes and ears; of spies.

            He bandaged me this his usual coarseness, apathetic to my wincing. We were lucky that very little blood managed to stain my coat. And what droplets did were easily hidden within the garment’s red color. The bandaging on my face, however, was only partially covered by my mask. So, we worked up a story. Something salacious, involving a bitter lover or some such nonsense.

            We returned to Madame Fascienne’s side and the remainder of the ball was much of the same. Aurus informed the Madame of our shortcomings and continued her to put up her blasé front. But the air around her changed. It was like it was that night she slaughtered the templars. Poised, but unmistakably deadly.

            She didn’t speak to me for the remainder of the ball, didn’t show me off to the other nobles. I could have sworn I caught a smug look or two from Aurus, but he messed up too. Worse maybe; after all, I was the one to find the papers. I knew the Marquis’ greatest secret.

            The gala ended late. Many of the higher nobles were treated to rooms within the mansion for the evening. Lesser nobles like Lady Fascienne made the trip to Montsimmard to stay at one of the lavish hotels.

            It was a thirty-minute carriage ride that seemed to last an eternity. Every time I tried to tell Fascienne what I found in the Marquis’ bathroom I was shot down by Aurus. I felt spite rise in me and I decided to wait then. I would find a way to get a moment alone with his precious Lady and keep all the glory for myself. We’d see who her favorite was then.

            When we arrived at the inn, the servants were split into two rooms, one for men and one for women. Fasciene reserved a suite for herself. I memorized her door and when I had a moment I slipped away from Aurus’ supervision to find it again.

            I knocked on the door. “Come in.” Fascienne called from the other side.

            “Madame,” I bowed, “I didn’t have a chance to tell you before, but I found something in the Marquis’ room.”

            “Oh,” she said disinterestedly. She lay on the sofa with her legs delicately draped over one another.

            I pulled the letters and locket from my coat. “These are the Marquis’ lover.” I handed her the pages. “His elven lover.”

            She hummed, not quite intrigued yet.

            “And this,” I held up the locket, “contains a picture of the woman, and her son. Their son.”

            A wicked curl settled on her face. “A bastard of an elven bitch. Why, this does muddy the water of our dear Marquis’ heir.” Fascienne stood and approached me, placing the papers on the table. She cupped my hands as she looked at the open locket. Suddenly her hand was over my wounded ear. “You did a good job.” She practically purred. “Such a shame this will scar.”

            A dull glow appeared in her hand and warmth spread throughout my face. It was soothing, I found myself sighing in response. A sharp intake of breath brought me out of the moment a I looked back at the Lady. She was biting her lower lip.

            “Isaac, you have done a good job for me.” There was something new in her tone, something I never heard from her before. She leaned in closer. “A reward is in order, no?”

            Before I could respond her lips were on mine, crushing, demanding. Instinctively I tried to follow her lead, but warning bells in my mind left me confused allowing me to only clumsily play catch up. I told myself this was good, she was happy with me, she wanted me. But a part of me was horrified by what I was letting happen.

            That was the first time Lady Fascienne took me to her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter of so of flashbacks and then we will return to our regularly scheduled nonsense.


	17. Bedtime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this coming up a bit later than usual. Things got busy.
> 
> Also, just a heads up, this chapter gets kinda gorey,so...be warned.

            “I’m turning the bed.” Aurus announced unceremoniously as he tossed me from my sleep. I hit the ground on my elbows, sending a wave of pain up my funny bone. Hissing from the impact, I pulled myself to my feet and shot a glare towards the elf. His dark eyes never bothered a glance in my direction.

            And that’s how it was for almost another year. Most nights I played companion to Lady Fascienne—who woke before me every morning—and punching bag to Aurus. Once again, I fell into routine.

            I became an even greater fascination of the Madame’s; I hardly left her side. She started to take less and less blood for her experiments as she took more and more of my time for herself. Sometimes I preferred the bloodletting. So did Aurus. He kept on crowing to increase the bleeding to accelerate their progress, but Fascienne said it would be of no use. For my sake, I was just glad she brushed him off so casually; though I could see the way the vessels in his head bulged as he forced his compliance.

            My new position in the Lady’s bed was not without perks. She kept me dressed in finer, better fitting clothes, reduced my number of household chores, and she started having me dine with her rather than with the other servants. I was tasting a wide variety of the finer foods that Orlesian cuisine had to offer. She fed the servants well enough, but nothing so flavorful as what she saved for herself and the occasional guest.

            That was another change, Fascienne started to host parties of her own and entertained nobles from all ranks. Even the Marquis was in attendance on occasion, if only to remind Fascienne that, although she knew his secrets, he knew hers as well. The standoff between those two remained at an impasse, neither playing their hand for fear of wasting their ace.

            As Fascienne opened more of herself and her home to myself and the rest of Orlais, however, Aurus grew more reclusive. More cold. His stoic expression colored with bitter resentment directed unmistakably toward me. He became far more irritable than before, snapping not with petty annoyance but with true disdain. And it wasn’t just me that he released his ire upon, he began alienating the rest of the staff as well. Only Lady Fascienne was privy to any semblance of agreeability. And even that became testy.

            We still trained together for a time, Aurus and I, and I confess that that last year was the penultimate source of my fighting capabilities, but even that was different. I learned more than I had the entire first two years he had trained me, because now the kid gloves were off. Every strike aimed at me was intended to maim or kill. Nothing in-between. It started gradually, like everything else, but I learned early on that one slip-up would be the end of me.

            That year also quickly became the loneliest. Aurus wanted nothing to do with me, except end me. The other servants all avoided me, I wasn’t sure if it was because I was Fascienne’s favorite pet or because I was Aurus’ worst enemy. Even now I can’t be sure. The only person I was intimate with was Fascienne, and that was only physical. It was worse than having no one.

            But I kept up my façade. I was a willing servant of my Lady Fascienne. I was a singer and storyteller for her guests. I flirted and praised my way into their hearts and when their defenses were down, I was the thief who stole their most precious secrets. And sometimes, I was their killer. I was a machine given a task to complete. And I did, without question.

            Things continued the same for most of that final year, but things began to worsen. Fascienne became more and more possessive—obsessive really—of me. She started to disapprove of the games I played with nobles at parties, so we stopped going out, stopped hosting. She became reclusive, even refusing to see some of her oldest and most loyal attendants instead demanding that I take over their duties. Soon it was, that I escorted her wherever she went, dressed her in the mornings, even tended to her as she bathed. And I did all of that too, because I knew what she was capable of. She was frightening when she was poised, but when she was erratic? I was terrified of her.

            And I feared Aurus too. I feared him from the moment his calm façade began to decay to the day it finally shattered. The day Fascienne sent even Aurus away in favor of me. The unadulterated rage he directed me as Fascienne erratically refused to continued teaching him magic. As she told him she didn’t want him in her quarters anymore. As the last straw broke the camel’s back.

            I should have known what would come next. The signs were written on the wall. In blood. But still I chose to bow my head and do as I was told as if that would keep me safe. Keep me comfortable.

            It was foolish.

            There was a knock at Fascienne’s door. Her arms wrapped around me as we lay in her extravagant bed. When I shifted to answer it her grip on me tightened.

            “Do not leave me, my love.” She spoke into the crook of my neck.

            I tried to gently pry myself away. “Madame, there is someone calling for you at the door.”

            “No, no, no.” she repeated over and over again. “They are here to take you away from me.” She stared me in the eye, a manic fear reflecting back at me. “We mustn’t let them. They will take you away. You are mine you belong with me.” She spiraled into a series of similar mutters when the knocking came again.

            I tried to placate her by cupping her face, my heart was pounding. “Then I will send them away, but first I must stand. I will return.” Every line I fed her was a gamble; I didn’t know what would send her off. But she was usually calmed when I talked to her as if she was a lover and not a master. I held her gaze and my breath.

            “Ok, ok, ok.” She nodded vigorously. “Send them away. Send them away…” she mumbled as she retreated her grasp.

            I got dressed quickly, hoping to send whoever was knocking packing before Fascienne missed my warmth too greatly. Behind the ornate slab of wood stood the familiar dark form of Aurus. He pushed his way into the room before I had a chance to stop him.

            “Now isn’t a good time.” I put my hand on his shoulder in warning.

            “I didn’t ask you.” He slapped it away with and added boost of electricity. It was a small jolt, but magic did always affect me strongly. I recoiled and swore as I stroked the attacked hand. He continued walking towards Fascienne’s bed. “Madame Fascienne, please come out of bed.” He begged. “This type of sloth doesn’t suit you. Neither do the filthy sheets you lie upon.” He cast a glance my way.

            “No, no, no Aurus. Can’t you see they want to take him away from me?” she wailed, roiling underneath the sheets. “No, we cannot let that happen. They will use him against me.”

            “They don’t have to my Lady, you are ruining yourself hiding away like this. The household suffers, our research suffers…I suffer.” The last point he said almost too quietly to hear. “My lady, you are suffering and it breaks my heart to see it.”

            As Aurus drew closer she lashed out. “No! you are with them! They have poisoned you and now you seek to poison me! I will not have it!” Suddenly she sat up and pointed a long-neglected fingernail at the elven servant. A lash of force burst forth and cut a red line across his cheek. “Get out!” she repeated over and over.

            “You need to go.” I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him out of the room, hoping to quell her mania before it got any worse.

            He shook me off with the most vicious look I have ever seen on his face. “I will go!” he shouted at me. “But not because of you, because I obey my Lady.” He turned and left Madame Fascienne, tendrils of force whipping and throwing her loose hair about. The door closed with a slam.

            Fascienne made infantile noises as she reached out to me, only stopping when I returned to bed and she wrapped her claws around me. “You will not leave me.” She spoke on a loop.

            “Of course.” I answered. Her nails dug in enough for me to feel the blood begin to trickle down.

* * *

 

            We didn’t leave her room for two days.

            Servants left meals at the door and retrieved them again when they were finished. The trays were always left unattended, the servants long out of sight for fear of upsetting the Madame. But going into the third day, they stopped coming all together. I waited to hear the gentle tapping of feet, or the rolling of cart wheels, but neither came. By midday, I was determined to find out what was happening.

            “No, no don’t leave.” Fascienne bellowed as I tried to explain to her why we needed to eat.

            “We could go together, hold hands the entire way.” I offered.

            I didn’t expect the howl with which she shot down the suggestion. “No! I can’t leave! Don’t make me leave!”

            “Ok, ok! No one’s going to make you leave!” I spoke quickly as I recoiled. I took a breath to soften my voice before speaking again. “But they seem to be taking your meals,” I decided to play along to her delusions, “I just want to stop them from stealing from you. Ok?”

            “Ok.”

            “I’ll be back soon.” I kissed her forehead, feeling nauseous from the gesture. After a few more minutes of coaxing I finally managed to talk her into letting me leave. I stood outside with the door on my back. It was the first moment I’d had alone in…I didn’t know how long. I could finally breathe again.

            But it was a temporary feeling, banished as soon as I saw how dark the hallway was. The sky outside was clouded grey, there was no sign of the sun.

            Or any light for that matter. None of the sconces had been lit, leaving eerie shadows to take hold of the corridor. Another unsettling factor was the lack of sound. No footsteps, no far away conversations, nothing.

            A familiar dread seeded in my stomach as I made my way towards the kitchens. It grew like a fungus as I passed room after silent, empty room. Finally, I reached the kitchen; it was cold. The stoves were unlit, there weren’t even any new groceries on the counters.

            A shiver crawled up my spine. The kitchens were never empty, never quiet, yet I stood alone in a shell of a space. like the set of a sitcom after everyone’s gone home. It was lifeless.

            A loud thud from the room above pulled me from my head and had my neck craning upwards. That was the service quarters. I fumbled towards the back stairs, too afraid to call out to anyone.

            The door to the quarters was slightly ajar, allowing for a sliver of flickering light to escape. I sucked in my breath as I approached and peered in. it was hard to tell, but there was some form with it’s back to me. It shifted like it was chewing on something. I couldn’t see it well, but I knew it wasn’t humanoid.

            Not thinking, I took a step back and landed my foot right on the creakiest stair. The creature stiffened and whipped its head around. It hunched with its long neck, massive arms flanking its sides. Its face looked…melted.

            Then it was slithering towards me, dropping whatever it had in its clutches. Instinctively, I reached for my dagger, but my fingers felt no metal. I was still dressed in my pajamas and robe. Cursing I flew down the stairs, skipping more than one step to gain distance. Even still I could almost feel it breathing on my neck as I ran.

            The knives in the kitchen were always kept on the left side, near the ovens. There had to be something there. I scrambled towards my only choice of weapon. The creature made wild swings at my legs as I moved. Luckily, he only got scratches on me. I nearly fell before the knife drawer, pulling it out to come between me and the monster. I took hold of the first handle I could and swung madly at the claws that reached for me. The butcher’s knife, though sharp, was not meant for slashing attacks. It was a tool not a weapon. Its square shape was awkward to swing about and left me no hope of stabbing the creature.

            But there was no way for me to get another knife, the creature had over taken the space and sloshed its strange body ever closer. I got lucky as it caught itself on the open drawer, allowing me to safely amputate three of its four fingers. It hissed as the digit fell to the floor and dissolved into shadow.

            No remains, this was a creature of the fade, then.

            I lured the beast around the main prep table, once, twice, three times, each time catching it on another open drawer or cabinet door. One thing that could be said of it, it didn’t seem to learn from it’s mistakes.

            It felt like it took an hour to whittle the beast down. Eventually, however, it grew slower and I gambled a chop at the creature’s neck. The blade cut through it’s ethereal sinews and it finally died; bleeding out into smoke and shadows until there was nothing but me, my knife, and an overturned kitchen.

            I wasted no time grabbing a second knife from the drawer, one suitable for slashing and stabbing. I looked at the cleaver in my hand a little forlornly as I switched that one out too. It served me well, but the creature was stupid, I doubted whatever summoned it would give me the same chances. The carving knife would give me better luck if I was ambushed.

            I returned to the servant’s quarters, cautious. I nearly vomited when I finally stepped into the room. I saw what the creature was eating. It was an older elven man. His name was Emil.

            Emil was missing his entire bottom half.

            There were no other bodies or parts from what I could see, but judging from the blood splattered around the room I figured he wasn’t the only casualty. Long dark streaks dragged out of the room in the opposite direction. I steeled myself before tracing the path into the hallway.

            There were more monsters along the way. And more corpses. Most I avoided simply by ducking in an out of rooms, but some I was forced to deal with.  The new knives were a smart investment.

            Then I found where the blood led. Aurus’ door stood before me, closed tightly. Blood stained the wood as well as the floors. I assumed the door would be locked, but when I tested the knob, it swung freely. Aurus stood with his back to me, head hung low over the desk his arms leaned against.

            “I’m glad you came here on your own, Isaac.” He sounded like he once did, composed, confident. His head turned just enough for me to see his mouth. “Saves me the trouble.”

            A streak of electricity flung from his fingertips as he spun to face me. My whole body clenched and convulsed as I fell to the ground. The footsteps that came toward me sounded worlds away and I tried to roll myself over and crawl away. A short kick to my back stopped that from happening.

            “This is all your fault!” he shouted as his boot landed once again. The calm had completely evaporated from his tone.

            “How is this my fault?” I tried to ask, but all I managed to get out was a strangled “how”.

            “How?” A manic laugh to rival Fascienne’s. “You were never supposed to be here!” Another kick. “Madame Fascienne and I were meant to summon a demon and handle her adversaries! Together!”

            I wanted to bark back in his face it was his spell that brought me here. His mistake. I never wanted to be here either. But I knew better. I bit my tongue so hard that it bled.

            He must have seen it dripping from the corner of my mouth, because he pulled me up by my hair. “Oh, but that’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” He wiped the blood up with his finger. He frowned at it for a moment before licking it off. “You have all this power in your blood. Power enough to make Fascienne swoon.” His black eyes were back on me. “So, give it to me!”

            Before I knew what was happening his teeth were biting down on my neck with more force than I thought capable of a person. I cried out and tried to writhe out of his grip, still shaking from the initial electroshock. He swallowed two large gulps before breaking away from me.

            Pink stained teeth mocked me as he held me up. A shudder swept through him as his eyes went bloodshot. He exhaled menacingly. “This…” his voice was breathy. “This is all you’re worth.” He pushed me against the wall, my hands scratched at his but he didn’t seem to care. “I will not let you take Lady Fascienne from me!”

            For a split second, I thought I saw tears in his eyes, but faster than I could register, Aurus started changing. His muscles began spasming, his limbs twitching and suddenly his skin broke. His torso began to expand like a fleshy balloon. Bone splintered and protruded like spines along his body. His hands became claws.

            I had no defense as they stabbed into me again and again into the same spot in my ear. The same wound Fascienne had once healed for me after a gala.

            At some point, Aurus stumbled away and I sunk to the ground, barely conscious as Fascienne’s cries filled the room. She tore into Aurus with claws of ice, ripping and shredding. I lost consciousness.

            But when I came to, she was still maiming Aurus’ body. Or what I assumed was his body, it looked more like a pile of ground beef. Shakily I tried to stand, staggering a few times as the vertigo tried to claim me. I tried calling out to her, hoping to stop her.

            “You can’t have him, you can’t have him…” She repeated like a mantra with every drag of her finger nails. The claws of ice seemed to have melted away.

            Horrified, I forced myself to move, leaning on the wall for assistance. Slowly I made my way down the hall, down the stairs. Fascienne was probably still tearing into Aurus when I left the main door of the mansion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We will return to Kirkwall next chapter.


	18. Not as We

            “I stumbled about in the woods until a merchant caravan picked me up. They tended to my wounds. Couldn’t fix the hearing in my ear,” I gestured to my scar. and, “But, when I was well enough, they gave me work.” Absentmindedly, I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “I travelled with them to Orzammar. It turned out they were part of an illegal lyrium smuggling ring. The templars were waiting just outside the city. The head trader, to his credit, gave his lesser hands—myself included—the time to escape before the templars arrested him. I made my way to Jader and found work on a ship heading to Kirkwall. I met up with one of the lyrium smugglers from before and he got me into the Jackals.” I smiled up at Bethany, drained…but in the best way possible. “And you know the rest.”

            Bethany’s eyes glistened with moisture. “Wow. That’s a lot to keep to yourself.”

            “So’s your magic.” I sympathized.

            “Maybe, but I had my family. My brothers.” Tears threatened to escape, but she inhaled deeply to control them. “You aren’t alone anymore Isaac.” She declared.

            Now tears stung the back of my eyes. “Yeah?”

            She stood and hugged me tightly, her head pressed to my bad ear. I could feel her breath on my skin. I chuckled in her embrace. “This day has gone very differently than I expected.”

            Bethany pulled back, her cheeks slightly red. “Is that a bad thing?”

            “No. No, not at all.” I leaned back against my chair. “It’s just a lot.” My emotional baggage was fraying at the seams, letting everything spill out for Bethany—and myself—to see. “Hey, want to go skip rocks with me?”

            “What?” Bethany’s eyebrow quirked at my random invitation.

            “Well, its just…” her name caught in my throat. “Finch and I, before all this, when we were friends, we used to go down by the shore and skips rocks. Not often, but enough for it to be a thing. I just…it’s been a long time since I skipped any rocks.”

            Bethany gave me a sympathetic smile. “Ok.”

            We skipped rocks for hours. My face was wet from the sea spray. Or maybe not. We kept on tossing. Halfway through, we ran out of good ones and just started throwing any old stones to the waves. I threw them for Tweety, my friend. For the loss of our friendship. For the loss of her.

            Then I threw them for me. For a home I had all but forgotten and would never see again. For the people whose faces I could only vaguely picture. Whose voices had long since vanished from my mind.

            And for the people who looked after me now. For the night Hawke and Bethany had found me bleeding out on their doorstep. For the circumstances that brought me to their door. To Her.

            There were no words as each arcing throw splashed into the sea, but with every stone I felt a little less heavy. A little more stable.

            And I watched as Bethany threw hers, wondering what she thought as she threw them. Who they were for. And hoping, desperately, some of them were for me.

* * *

 

            “You’re looking a little puffy there, Showman. Everything ok?” Varric asked from his hand of Wicked Grace. Bethany and I had spent so much time crying and chucking rocks I was amazed my eyes weren’t sealed closed.

            “Why, Varric, I was simply beside myself,” I put on a voice. “To be away from my dear friend Garrett Hawke all day!” Hawke groaned in response and ordered another drink. I chuckled as I sat down. “But, yeah. I’m ok, Varric. Thanks.” I said in the most honest tone I’d ever spoken in.

            Varric nodded knowingly and dealt me into the next hand. “Well then, I imagine you’re ok enough to lose a round or two.”

            “Oh no, I know better than to buy in when half the table’s already out.” I said gesture to Anders’, Fernris’, and Aveline’s lack of cards. The only people still in the game seemed to be the dwarf, Isabella, and somehow Merrill. Even Garrett was out, that was a sign that Isabella and Varric were playing for keeps.

            “Eh, that’s no fun.” Isabella whined. “If you’re afraid of losing coin we could always bet something more fun. Like…our clothes.” Her eyes teased me from across the room.

            “No.” I said almost as dryly as Fenris.

            Varric chuckled. “Shot down like a pheasant, Rivani. What about you Sunshine? You interested in winning some coin?”

            “Thanks Varric, but I don’t have any on me.” Beth turned him down while simultaneously filching Hawke’s new drink.

            “Spending time with all these rogues is proving to be a bad influence on you.” Garrett remarked as he held up two fingers for more drinks. “What would mother say if she knew you were stealing ale from others.”

            “Well seeing as it was your ale, I think she’d commend me for curbing your vices.” She sassed before taking a swig. “We wouldn’t want you becoming a drunkard like Uncle.”

            “Maker forbid.” Hawke dragged his hand along his face. “Oh, I just remembered.” He fished through his pockets and pulled out two small coin sacks. “Your cut from the raid.” He handed me the pouch.

            It felt heavy in my hand, and not because there was a great deal of coin inside. I chewed my lip. “Varric, I’ve changed my mind. It seems I’ve come into quite a sum of coin to lose. Deal me in.”

            His lip curled. “That’s the spirit!”

            Hawke gave me an uncertain look before getting distracted by Bethany’s hand on his arm. She distracted him with meaningless conversation as I drowned myself in ale. By the last few rounds of the game I was so sloshed I didn’t even have to lose on purpose anymore. I wasn’t sure how much money I spent on booze and cards. I just knew I wanted that pouch empty before I went home.

* * *

 

            Evidently, I didn’t even make it that far.

            The next morning, I woke with a pounding headache on Varric’s couch. It was comfier than my bed. Still, I strained to sit up. Like a zombie pulling itself from its coffin.

            “He lives.” Varric turned from his desk to acknowledge me.

            I groaned. “I thought I could hold my liquor better than this.”

            That earned a hearty chuckle from the dwarf. “Maybe, but the way you were knocking back? You had enough to take a qunari off his feet.”

            I snorted at the mental image of a qunari belly up on the floor of the Hanged Man. “I think I’d pay to see that.”

            “You and my readers both, showman.” He turned back to his desk and dipped his quill in the ink. “There’s some breakfast on the table if you’re interested. Nice and greasy.”

            Slowly I made my way over. I stuck a sausage link in my mouth. “Thanks.”

            “Remember to chew.”

            I snorted and continued eating. Honestly, it was distractingly good. I didn’t know the Man had a capable chef. Though all I ever order from there was drinks. And cheap ones at that.

            “So, you feeling better?” Varric asked unexpectedly.

            “Honestly, despite the headache, yeah.” Something about waking up on a nice bed and being given a free (and delicious) meal had me feeling rather candid. I narrowed my eyes for a moment. “I didn’t say anything weird last night, did I?”

            “Define weird?” he smirked.

            “Stop fishing.” I quirked back.

            “Ha ha, you’re learning yet kid.”

            “Please, I teach the class.” I took a swig of tea that was set out. “But really, I hope drunk me didn’t ruin my image.”

            “Nah, if anything he humanized you, kid.”

            “Oh, Maker. I got sappy, didn’t I?” I facepalmed, half for effect and half genuinely. “This is why I avoid getting drunk normally!”

            This evoked an even stronger laugh from the dwarf, so much so that he had to put his pen down and stop writing. He turned in his chair to face me. “Let’s just say that there were some that had their reservations about trusting you, but not after last night.”

            I slumped back down on the couch and groaned. My arm draped dramatically over my eyes.

            “What? Is it really that bad to be part of Hawke’s merry band of idiots, Showman?” Varric asked.

            Eyes still covered, I smiled. “No, I guess not.”


	19. Be OK

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I missed last week, sorry about that.  
> I'm considering a new posting schedule so I can take a week off every month so I have more time to write and edit.  
> I'm looking at taking the third Monday of every month off.  
> So I'll probably try that for a bit and see how it goes.  
> Anyway, here's a belated chapter for ya. Hope it holds up.

            I got out of Varric’s hair after eating; he seemed to have a lot of work to do and I didn’t feel like bothering him. I already imposed on him all night, anyway.

            Light stung my eyes as I left the Hanged Man. Groaning, I flinched away from the bright sky. Though less than before breakfast, my head still pounded from my night. Despite the discomfort, however, I felt good. I felt like how you’re supposed to after spending a night with friends.

            “Friends.” I smiled to myself and made my way to the Lowtown markets. I used to sell stories on those streets. Steal them too. Now I held my head up high as I passed the urchins running the same tired schemes. On good days I even tossed a coin or two to the panhandlers. Today felt like a good day.

            After a few minutes of wandering aimlessly, I saw the familiar stature of a Hawke hunched over a merchant table. His dark hair poked out from his head messily as he spoke to the seller.

            “Hakwke.” I called out. He didn’t seem to hear me, so I tried again; louder. “Hawke!”

            A confused look swiveled before finding me and his eye lit with recognition. “Isaac, good morning. How’re you feeling?”

            “Oh man, I must have been wasted if big brother Hawke is asking after my well-being.” I chuckled slightly as to not worsen the headache.

            “Well, I’m not sure how much of last night Varric relayed to you, but you really can’t hold your liquor.” A gentle hand found my shoulder. “Honestly, I was surprised. I didn’t expect Bethany to have a better tolerance.”

            “Yeah, well in my previous line of work drinking to excess was a bit of a liability.” I mused. “Though, some thought it a requirement and that was just depressing.”

            Hawke nodded knowingly. “How’re you holding up?” Hawke had a way of speaking in implications. He knew I used to run with the Jackals, he knew the raid messed me up somewhat, but he never forced the specifics. I was grateful for that. It was a sympathy with reprieve.

            “Better.” I said. And I meant it. “Weird, but that’s hardly new.”

            Hawke chuckled this time. “Well, weird is kind of the norm with our friends. And me too.”

            “What are you on about Hawke, I’ve never met a more average group of people. Why Anders and Fenris alone are practically models of society.”

            This drew a full force laugh from the larger man, causing him to double over the table. The merchant flashed him a look he couldn’t see that expressed his displeasure.  When Hawke collected himself, I noticed a sack of items slayed out before him. Some I recognized as loot from jobs I was present for.

            “You doing some spring cleaning?” I gestured to the bag.

            “Ah, not quite. I’m just selling the last bits of things we’ve collected to scrounge together a few more coins before the expedition.”

            Right, my heart sank, the deep roads road trip. “Oh, that’s coming up soon isn’t it.”

            “Two days.”

            My throat got tight. “Only two?” I whistled. “You know, I thought this was gonna be one of those plans we always talked about, but never really follow-through with. You’re sure I can’t convince you not to go?”

            “I appreciate the sentiment, Isaac, but no. We need to do this.” Hawke finished trading and motioned for me to walk with him. “Are you free now? I could use some company.”

            “Uh, yeah sure. What did you have in mind?”

            “Well, it’s a bit early for a drink. How about we spar? Fenris and I usually go down by the coast to train.”

            “Well, I doubt I’d give you the same workout Fenris would. That guy’s a beast.” Garrett’s cheeks got a shade darker, from the heat? I kept on talking. “Just go easy on me yeah?”

            “Ha, don’t worry. I know how to control myself. I just need to work off some steam.”

            “Yeah? What’s on your mind?”

            He chuckled sardonically, “The world? Maybe that’s a bit dramatic.”

            “Yeah, and that’s my territory, back off.”

            Another laugh, followed my silence. “This has to work.” He finally said. “I’ve made a lot of gambles in my life, some…played out better than others.” His eyes fell slightly.

            “But you’ve prepared.”

            “Hm? I suppose, but preparation only gets you so far.”

            “I guess that’s true, you’ve gotta be able to improvise.” I glanced over Hawke’s stone face. “You’re worried about your family, right? Your mom, Bethany.”

            “They seem to be the only things I worry about anymore.” He looked towards the sky, seagulls coasted overhead. “I think it’s because I’ve already failed them irrevocably.”

            This gave me pause. “What, failed them? You Garrett Hawke? Paragon of protection?”

            “I wasn’t there for Carver.”

            Somewhere in my head that name lit up, like I’d heard it before, but I couldn’t quite place it. “Carver?”

            “My little brother. Bethany’s twin.”

            “Oh.” Then it hit me, I had heard the name from Bethany, when we were trapped in the tunnels together. “What…” I chewed the words before asking them. “What happened to him?”

            “The Blight. He protected mother, but I couldn’t protect him.” He looked forlorn. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for that.”

            “That’s…I’m sorry.” I never did know how to deal with grief. And just because I was starting to manage my own didn’t mean I knew how to handle it in others.

            Garrett nodded. We walked quietly until we made it to the shore. The cold sea spray jumped up to meet as we passed. If not for the blaring midday sun it would have been unpleasant.

            We must have sparred for hours, both of us having an endurance unanticipated by the other. I mostly played defense, but that isn’t to say I didn’t land a few solid hits on the brute. As we moved the air seemed to get lighter. We quipped and bantered as we threw blows. I understood why Garrett liked to fight to work through his baggage. It helped.

            “Thanks,” I said breathlessly from the ground.

            “Most people don’t thank me for knocking them flat on their ass.” Hawke sassed as he extended a hand to me.

            “Oh? That’s too bad, I’ve heard some people are into that kind of thing.” I stood with his help. “But I mean for this, sparring and I guess for everything. You gave me chance, you and Bethany both, that most wouldn’t have afforded a guy like me.”

            “What can I say, you grew on us.”

            I laughed to myself, “Maybe like a parasite. Just make sure you all come back…from the Deep Roads. I’m dealing with a lot of personal shit right now and I don’t need you adding to the pot. Too many cooks spoil the broth.”

            “That is the most convoluted way of telling someone you care about them I think I’ve ever heard. Actually, reminds me of Carver.” Hawke was smiling now.

            “Oh? Sounds like we would have gotten along.”

            “Ha, no. You would have infuriated him.” Hawke said jovially.

            “An even greater shame I never met him, then.”

            Hakwe’s face settled into a comfortable smile. Delicate, with just a hint of melancholy. “C’mon, let’s head to the Man; grab meal and a drink.”

            I plopped myself back to the ground dramatically. “Oh, Hawke I’m afraid after the workout you’ve put me through I haven’t the strength to get myself there.” I draped an arm over my forehead and looked him square in the eye. “You’ll have to carry me.”

            “I’m not going to carry you,” Hawke grinned.

            “No?” I asked, mildly disappointed.

            “No.” He picked me up by my arm once again.

            I shrugged. “It was worth a shot. One of these days, you might just agree when I ask.”

            “We’ll see.”

            Hawke and I felt…better. Closer. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but it felt like there was something off about things between the two of us. Like we were two gears spinning out of sync. But now, we finally clicked and I don’t know if it’s because of my own change of heart or if Hawke had some epiphany in the past few days.

            Or maybe it had something to do with my drunken sentimentality.  Whatever the cause, it was good. We were good.

            Things carried on. We didn’t have any big jobs in the days preceding the Deeps Roads expedition. Evidently, Varric’s brother was something of a sour man and it took all of his attention just to keep Bartrand from diving off the deep end. We didn’t see much of our beloved author because of that.

* * *

 

            Anders filled the story teller’s gap and took to regaling us of his time as a Grey Warden and the subsequent loss of his cat. (Honestly, I don’t know how the Wardens managed to keep him from the cat. I saw how he was with strays.)

             I knew very little about Grey Wardens; just that they fought darkspawn and ended blights. According to Anders it was all very hush hush. Even after leaving the order there were still things he said he “better not say.” I don’t know if he was worried about someone finding him out or what, but he stayed tight-lipped on the subject save for some bemoaning about the Roads. And to be honest it made him sound more like a kid than a battled hardened warden.

            I think he talked about it in such a light manner in hopes of lightening the Hawkes’ spirits. However, it was to little effect. It was subtle, the way the siblings acted, but their interactions were shorter, belaying their stressed state of mind. Even so, their minds couldn’t be changed.

            Two days, it was a small time to process what might have been the last time I saw either sibling. And to be perfectly honest, I didn’t. I worried and stressed, but some part of me still believed that I could convince them to stay. Or if not both, maybe at least just Bethany.

            It was a stupid and selfish wish, and for once in my life I decided to keep it to myself. If the siblings didn’t want to go, then they were determined to. It wasn’t my place to choose for them. No matter how much I wanted to shut the whole thing down.

            So when the day came, I held my tongue. For as long as I reasonably could.

            “Are you sure you still want to do this?” I flashed a meek smile to Bethany as they loaded up their carts in the square. “There are tons of ways to make money in this city, not always reputable, but safer by a wide margin.”

            “I…” Bethany paused as she handed a sack up to one of Bartrand’s mercenaries. “Isaac, it could take years to earn the kind of coin to reinstate the Amell name and reclaim our estate. Mother may have gotten the ball rolling, but without the coin it won’t go anywhere.”

            “I know, I know.” I back-peddled. “I figured it was worth a shot.” She hopped down from the cart and threw her arms around me in a tight hug. She was so warm. I could have spent an eternity in those arms.

            We were startled apart by the raised voice of Leandra Hawke from across the court. “No! You are not taking Bethany down there with you!”

            “Mother, please, keep your voice down.” Hawke attempted to placate the woman.

            “I will not!” I had never seen the woman with so little composure. “You told me this was a month-long excursion that you and Varric would be on together. Now I find out, from the grocer of all people, that you and Bethany are going down into those Maker-forsaken tunnels!”

             “I understand you’re upset, but we’re not going down unprepared. Bartrand has a team of fifteen men—all trained in combat—and we’ve enough supplies to last us three months.”

            “And what of the darkspawn? Carver was just as well trained as you—as any soldier. You still let him die!”

            The hurt on Hawke’s face was tragic. I got the feeling that those words had remained unspoken between the two of them since they lost Carver. Since Leandra lost her baby boy. Still, it even hurt me to hear that she blamed Garrett for his loss.

            “Mother that’s unfair.” Bethany strode up an interjected. “We all lost Carver that day, we were all there. Placing the blame on Garrett is too cruel.”

            Leandra’s eyes ducked down in shame, her voice softened. “I just can’t bear to lose anyone else.”

            Bethany took her mother’s hands. “And you won’t. We’ll be careful. And when we get back we’ll all live in the estate together.”

            “No,” Hawke said darkly from a lowered face. “Mother’s right, Bethany you should stay.”

            “What?” both women said in tandem.

            “Brother, no I’m going with you. You’ll need…” she started before choosing her words carefully. “You need my abilities. What if someone gets hurt?”

            “I’ll ask Anders to come with, he owes me a favor.” Hawke tried to say lightly in hopes of adding some humor to the situation.

            “He hates the Deep Roads, there’s no way you could convince him to go back.”

            “I’ll get him a cat.”

            “You said we’d do this together.”

            “Bethany stop trying to convince him otherwise. Your brother has made up his mind.” Leandra’s grip on her hands tightened.

            “Mother.” The girl’s eyes looked on pleadingly. Then she turned back to me, hoping that I might fight on her behalf. But I was, in my silence I was fighting for Bethany Hawke to stay safe. Even if I couldn’t look her in the eyes as I did so. If it was a betrayal, then why did I feel so relieved?

            Eventually, she relented. “Fine. Fine! But I swear by the Maker, only if Anders agrees to go in my stead, and you better come back in one piece.”

            Garrett looked his sister dead in the eyes. “I promise.”

            She gave a curt nod before turning around and dashing past me, not even turning as I called out for her. I stayed frozen as she disappeared through the streets. As Leandra made to follow her. As Hawke came to stand beside me.

            “Would you mind finding Anders for me?” Hawke said in a controlled tone.

            I just nodded and made my way towards Anders clinic. Seemingly transferring my paralysis to Hawke as I moved away. He still stood there by the time I reached the stairs. Fists clenched. Face down.


	20. Plans

            Things quickly worsened. Bethany’s relationship with her mother all but deteriorated entirely. The two barely spoke except when absolutely necessary. Leandra tried to win her back, for a time, but she never budged on her position, hoping instead to convince Bethany that the decision to stay was the best choice available. And as her words fell upon deaf ears over and over again, Leandra chose to bury herself in her petition for her family name. Every time I paid a visit to Gamlen’s shack I found the woman knee-deep in paperwork and practically unresponsive.

            Bethany also began to change. She became more impulsive hoping to prove herself. She started going on jobs that Garrett would have led when he was topside. Even some that would have turned down.

             Merrill and Isabela were always on board for whatever the little Hawke wanted to do and Aveline kept an eye out whenever she caught wind of anything too dangerous. And I became her confidant. We spent more time than ever together; most of the time we just talked about whatever was on our minds. The only subject she wouldn’t breech was her mother and Garrett. I tried bringing them up on a couple of occasions, but she always brushed it away in favor of other topics. She told me about Carver and her dad and what it was like growing up in Lothering. What it was like growing up with magic. When she talked, she almost fooled me into believing everything was ok.

            Then Hawke was a day late. Then two. Soon it was a week and there was no sign of him or the others on the horizon. Everyone was on edge waiting for the group to return. Hoping they would return.

            That’s when Bethany started to get reckless.

* * *

 

            “Kitten, are you sure about this job? It seems a little sketchy to me.” Isabela leaned a fist against her cheek over the table as she poked her dagger in the wood.

            “No more so than what Garrett usually has us doing.” Bethany replied. “And besides, from the sound of it we might actually be able to do some good.”

            “Maybe, but is it worth the risk? What if this is all just a trap?” I pointed with the flagon in my hand. I spoke in a hushed tone, even with all the commotion in the Hanged Man. “What if spreading these rumors are the Templar’s ways of finding mages and sympathizers?”

            “But what if there are mages looking for passage out of the city? We can’t just ignore them.” Merrill argued in her lilted voice.

            “Exactly.” Bethany agreed appreciatively. “And we’ll be careful. We’ll wear cloaks and masks and we’ll scout it out before we do anything. This isn’t anything new.”

            “Good enough for me.” Isabela signaled to the barmaid for another round.

            I bit the inside of my lip, regretting what I was going to sat before I said it. “But we had Garrett with us for all those other jobs.” The words tasted just as bitter coming out as I had imagined they would. Even so, they weren’t wrong.

            Bethany visibly flinched back, but her eyes grew with determination. “And when he comes back we’ll run more. We aren’t helpless, none of us.”

            “I just mean that…none of us are the heavy hitter Hawke was. I don’t know if I can protect you like he did.”

            “I don’t need protection!” Bethany said loud enough to spur a momentary lapse in the usual tavern noise.

            When the grumbling picked up again Isabela picked herself and Merrrill up. “Oh, would you look at that. Norah’s got her hands full. C’mon kitten let’s help her with the drinks.”

            “She doesn’t look like she’s have a rough time.” Merrill responded, earning a gentle prodding before understanding the pirate’s subtext. “Oh, yes of course.”

            Our table was quiet, Bethany folded her arms and glared down into her drink. “I don’t need protection. You and brother both seem to think I’m a child. I’m not helpless.” Now she glared at me.

            I tripped over my words. “No, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry, I know you’re not helpless. I just…I worry. Garrett did too.”

            “Stop doing that.”

            I looked up at her. “What?”

            “Talking about him like he isn’t coming back.” Her eyes were clear; they shimmered in the candlelight, but she wouldn’t let tears escape her lids.

            I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “Sorry.” I tried a sympathetic smile. She didn’t seem to appreciate it much.

            “Brother might have gotten side-tracked down there, but he went prepared. Over-prepared, like always. The Roads are notorious for being winding and confusing, but he’ll find his way home.”

            “You’re right.” I said with as much conviction as I could imbue my voice with. If only I believed any of it.

* * *

 

            The job was anything but simple. Bethany learned through some of Garrett’s contacts about a faction of mages who had escaped the circle but remained in the mountains to act as a sort of Underground Railroad for others to escape. Apparently, they had run into some trouble and could no longer enter the city to restock supplies. But they didn’t want to forsake their cause, so now they waited for help to come.

            Bethany was determined to be that help.

            We didn’t tell Aveline what we were doing; that way she had some plausible deniability if things went wrong. And things always had a way of going wrong. At least we had a history of fast reaction time.

            We prepped at Merrill’s home, there was less chance of someone overhearing our plans there than at the Man. None of us had the coin to make people forget what they heard like Varric did nor the ability to make problems go away so quietly.

            I was still uneasy about the strange mirror she kept in her bedroom, but I found I could make myself forget about it readily if I steered clear of that wing of the shack and busied myself with planning. Though in the back of my mind, I wondered if the others sensed anything off about it. If they did, they never brought it up.

            “We don’t know exactly where they’ll be, but there are only so many caves along the eastern side of Sundermount. It shouldn’t take us long to find.” Bethany splayed a map on the table. She placed little wooden markers in the areas she mentioned.

            “I have a good understanding of the mount.” Merrill added as she placed mismatched tea cups in front of everyone. They were filled with steaming water; she forgot to add the tea leaves. “My clan scouted the area thoroughly before I left them, and I still have a fairly strong memory of the area.”

            “Thanks Merrill,” Bethany took a sip from the cup and smiled despite the mistake. “Do you think it’s be worth asking your clan to help us?”

            Merrill pouted. “I don’t think we’ll need to, and besides, they wouldn’t be too keen on helping us. I don’t think so, anyway.”

            “We’ll think of it like a treasure hunt, if we don’t take a few wrong steps there’s no fun in it.” Isabela chimed in. she lifted the tea cup to her lips but stopped abruptly. “Kitten, I think you’ve forgotten something here.”

            “What? Oh!” The elf checked the cup. “Dread Wolf take me, just a moment.” She retrieved all the cups and started back to the counter.

            “Your clan won’t give us any trouble will they, Merrill?” I called to her back.

            “What? Oh, I don’t think so. As long as we avoid them…it should be fine.” She didn’t sound certain, but she was also preoccupied steeping the tea.

            “If we could avoid all our problems we’d all be so easy going.” I mumbled to myself. “What about the templars? Do we know of any movements on their side?”

            “According to Brann,” Garrett’s contact, “the faction’s movements are still unknown. Not many mages risk an escape, so they have no reason to believe that anyone is helping the ones that do.” Bethany explained.

            “If the templar’s aren’t onto them, they why do they even need our help?” I proposed. There was something off, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.

            “One of their members who lived in the circle was spotted by templar who recognized them. They lost them in the woods, but they have no way of knowing if the templar has given up the search or not. They don’t want to risk any other members.”

            “No, but they have no qualms risking strangers.” I crossed my arms.

            “We’ve helped mages in need before, this isn’t any different.”

            But it was. We had Hawke with us before, and Varric and Fenris and the champion of mage rights himself, Anders. We were down by half our fighting force and Bethany was still too green for a leader. Her spells took all her focus in battle leaving no time for shouting orders to the rest of us. She could handle herself in a fight, but without our warriors taking the pressure off of her she took more strain than she could sustain.

            I felt it. We were taking more hits, harder hits. Nothing fatal and Bethany was an ace when it came to healing us, but we could only continue in that way for so long. We were wearing down; something was going to break.

            Isabela sighed loudly. “Everyone’s gotten so serious since Hawk went on his little trip.” Suddenly, she shot out of her seat and slammed her hands on the table. “I know! Let’s go the Blooming Rose! We could all use a little stress reliever.”

            “No.” I deadpanned.

            “Isaac, you’re no fun anymore.” A finger curled under my chin. “You never want to play.”

            “You say that as if I ever did anything but turn you down for your ‘play’.” I gently swatted the hand away. From the corner of my eye I noticed Bethany’s cheek’s pinken slightly, her eyes refused to look my way.

            “Well, maybe that kind of ‘play’, but you used to be more theatrical about turning me down. Citing some long distance romance or false proposal, but I guess after your drunken heart-to-heart you got less fun.”

            My face flushed. “That was over a month ago, can we please let it go?”

            “No,” she tried to deadpan back at me, but couldn’t suppress her cat’s smile.

            “I think it was very sweet, what you said.” Merrill came back with a tray of tea.  “It’s not often we see you like that.”

            “Yeah, and now I can never get drunk in front of any of you lot ever again.” I lamented. “There are only so many vices in the world and now that one’s off the table.”

            “You could always start looking for virtues.” Isabela mocked.

            I snorted before taking my cup from Merrill.

            “Well, I know Bethany appreciated what you said in your drunken state.” The pirate teased.

            I coughed on my tea and we both grew a shade redder. As I tried to calm my new coughing fit, Bethany got to her feet.

            “Merrill, would you help me gather the supplies for tomorrow.” She said a little too loudly as she made her way towards the door.

            “Oh, yes! Let me just grab my grocery bag.” The elf replied and followed dutifully leaving me alone in her home with the salacious pirate.

            I looked her square in the eye. “One of these days, you’re going to tell me exactly what is was I said that night. And no bullshit.”

            “You’ll just have to wait to read about it in Varric’s next book. He’s sworn us all to secrecy until it’s published.”

            “He’d have to come back to be able to write it you know.” I replied darkly.

            She sipped her tea. “Have some faith, Showman. Have some faith.”


	21. Stubborn Beast

            We only intended to bring some supplies; something to help the mages journey to a new outpost. Something to give them time to regroup and plan their next step. What was that old saying about good intentions?

            I insisted we gather our materials separately and from different vendors. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I didn’t want us doing anything to bring extra attention to our actions. We already had more eyes on us than normal.

            Hawke had something of a reputation in this city. It was something his presence could all but manage on its own, but the occasional word and bit of coin from Varric did much of the rest of the work to settle those scores. With Garrett and Varric both gone, it felt like the entire city waited with baited breath.

            Over the course of a couple days, we gathered everything we needed: disguises, food, other supplies. Merrill and Isabela scouted the base of the mountain under the guise of nature strolls. They hadn’t seen any bucket heads on patrol, but Merrill found definite signs of people nearby a small cave entrance to the northwestern side.

            We all left Kirkwall separately, dressed in our day clothes, and met up in the woods where we donned our masks and prepared for the mission. The only thing to do was wait for the cover of darkness and move in.

            Everything was in place; all the pieces were gathered and set. Nothing could have put me more on edge.

            “Isabela and I can scout ahead just to make sure everything is clear,” I said when we were in view of the opening.

            “I’d feel better if we all stayed together.” Bethany tossed her staff between her hands. “That way if there is a problem we can deal with it together. Splitting up will just put us at an unnecessary risk.”

            “We’ll be quick and quiet. If there is a problem we can identify it and escape.” I threw my hands out to the side. “We can avoid any trouble before it finds us.”

            “But if there are people waiting to ambush, wouldn’t they be expecting us to do something like this?” This time it was Merrill who weighed in. “It would be better to have everyone there ready to fight.”

            “But we’ll be careful so they won’t even see us.” I said admittedly too aggressively. I couldn’t keep my hands from fidgeting.

            “I’m with the girls on this one, Showman. Either there are a group of hapless mages waiting for us in that cave or a gaggle of grumpy templars. If it’s the latter I’d like someone with a bit more firepower at my side.” Isabela linked arms with Merrill and gave her a wink.

            “Then we go in together. Isabela, you’ll keep close to Merrill’s side and Isaac to mine. If things go wrong we keep with our partners, make sure we get out, and regroup near the city.” Bethany spoke with the confidence of a leader but uncertainty made a home in her eyes. If only stubbornness wasn’t a familial trait of the Hawkes, we might have avoided what came next.

* * *

 

            We walked in darkness. There was a bright moon in the sky alighting the land, but it couldn’t reach us in the depths of the cave. There were no sconces, nor torches left to guide the wanderers who stumbled into its depths. Only the void.

            Wind howled from the mouth of the cave and echoed deep into its bowels like moaning ghosts. The only other sounds were the occasional scurrying of rodent feet and spurious drips that fell from the stalactites above. Our movements were silent partly due to our own carefulness but also because of the enchantment Merrill cast over us all. No words left us as we continued our descent.

            The further in we went the more tension built inside of me. Every droplet made me flinch, every pebble dislodged by careless fauna made me startle. And every adverse reaction I had only served to put my companions on edge with me.

            The worst part of it was the anticipation. The nothing that accosted us set my mind wild with possibilities of what might be prowling the darkness.

            My sense of dread was worsened as the tunnels began to brighten. In the distance, fires burned to light some unseen alcove before us. I motioned for the group to stand back as I peered around the corner.

            The path connected to a large atrium that seemed to once function as some kind of mine. There were old wooden structures built into the stone walls; dilapidated in most parts, but some portions looked to have been hastily repaired with newer beams. I didn’t see any movement outside of the flicker of shadows, but I heard the unmistakable hum of voices.

            I slid away from the wall carefully to report back to the group. “There are definitely people down there, but I didn’t have sight on any of them.” I spoke lowly.

            “Did they sound like templars?” Isabela asked.

            “I don’t know, I couldn’t make any of it out. They were too far away.”  My hands fell to my daggers. “But I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

            “What else is new.” Isabela strode toward the corner and leaned out to hear. Honestly it might have made more sense for her to check it out in the first place. Hearing wasn’t really my strong suit anymore. “There’s a shack to the side, I’d bet good money that whoever is down there set up there.”

            “Is there a clear path to get us near there?” Bethany asked from the back.

            “It’s not a quick one, but if we keep to the walls there are some straits we can sneak behind. I don’t see any windows on the shack from this angle, so this might be tricky.”

            “Well, hopefully they have loud conversations about being templars or mages so we don’t have to risk getting too close.” I sassed.

            “You don’t think that’s what they’ll be talking about do you?” Merrill asked genuinely. She caught my meaning when everyone in the group collectively flashed her a look. “Oh, no you were being sarcastic.”

            “Don’t sweat it Kitten, you’ll pick up on it eventually.” Isabela returned to her side and threw an arm over her shoulder. Then she looked to Bethany. “So, are we ready to go, Sunshine?”

            “Now or never.”

* * *

 

            It should have been never.

            We should have turned around while we had the chance. It would have been better, smarter. Things might’ve been different. We could have…

            Or maybe it was always meant to happen that way. Fate had always been a cruel mistress up to that point, so I suppose there was no reason to expect anything different. The luckiest day I had in my life was when Bethany found me on her doorstep, and that was only after I had been impaled within an inch of my life. Some things weren’t meant to work out.

            There were no mages in those mines, save for the two I, myself walked in. I can’t say if there were ever any down there, but there were templars. A fact we found out all too late.

            They saw us coming as we approached. Some were stationed up in the rafters as guard dogs to signal the rest. We barely had time to react before they announced our presence and descended upon us.

            A pulse of energy spread from multiple palms as the templars evoked a smiting power removing Bethany and Merrill from the fight almost entirely. If not for their bladed staves they would have been defenseless.

            They surrounded us quickly but closed in slowly beating the face of their daunting shields with the pommels of their blades. I tried kicking at a few of them as they approached hoping to catch them off balance but to no avail. 

            There were only about seven of them, but to us they seemed a veritable army bearing down. It was all we could do to even try and think over the cacophony of marching boots on echoing stone.

            I pressed Bethany behind me as they pushed us ever closer, a futile effort I knew but it didn’t stop me. I lashed out at any blades that came near. Erratically maybe, but unceasingly. I knew I couldn’t keep it up for long, but I was just so terrified by the alternative that I didn’t care.

            Then everything changed.

            The earth shook and tossed the templars back about ten feet. My head spun around to see Bethany’s doing the same. We both stared at Merrill whose open palms ran red with her own blood. Her staff which had been knocked from her hands lay on the floor uselessly. Beside her Isabela’s daggers were lined with a thin red stripe.

            “Run!” the pirate shouted in tandem with a templar calling, “Blood mage!”

            Then the fight began in earnest. Bethany downed a lyrium potion and managed to regain some of her arcane abilities, though in a much weaker form. Many of the templars’ shields had been knocked away by Merrill’s attack, and came at us with only their swords and their bravado. I looked for any weak knees or flimsy guards as I tried to cover our escape. Isabela led the charge back down the way we came sucker punching templars as they attempted to stall our magic users again.

            Swords fell around me as the soldiers tried to stop us. Some blades I managed to dodge or parry, some connected with flesh. I didn’t stop moving. Didn’t stop pushing Bethany forward when she turned to see what my cries of pain meant. It was nothing. It had to be, or we weren’t making it out alive.

            Bethany set some of the nearby scaffolding aflame with a small ball of fire. Debris rain down upon our attackers battering them with small rocks and bits of smoldering wood. Most were able to stave off the damage by using their shields like umbrellas, shrugging off the wreckage like it was a light hail.

            “Don’t let them escape!” One called as Isabela reach the corridor we traveled through originally. On his command some of the templars threw down their swords and shields opting to hang back and knock flaming arrows. Merrill was able to swipe them out of the air with tendrils made of the earth, but some flew high and stuck within the ancient wooden support beams.

            The scene was one of flame and noise as the battle raged on. Two of the templars had been incapacitated, but the other five still hounded us relentlessly. I was the farthest back in our line, hoping to buy the others some time and keep the templars off of them, but with the newly minted archers I was losing my ground fast. Now Bethany pulled at my arm urging me forward. The other two had gained some distance ahead of us

            Hoping to make a break for it, I turned my attention away from the templars for a moment only to be tackled when one of them launched themselves at me in a last-ditch effort to stop our retreat. His superior stature overpowered me and brought me to the ground; my daggers skidded out of sight as I fell. Bethany’s grip on me wrenched away as she maintained her footing.

            “No!” she shouted readying a spell aimed for the man atop me. I could only see her eyes under the mask she wore, but they burned as brightly as the flames coalescing in her palm.

            “Stand down!” The templar captain called from behind me. They were regaining their composure, restoring their formations. Archers held their aim on Bethany as the shield bearers closed in.

            I thrashed with all my might hoping to topple the one pining me, but to no avail. He held my arms strongly to my back and pressed my chest into the stone with his mass. I could see indecision in Bethany’s eyes. If she released the fire she had conjured there was no guarantee she wouldn’t take me with the blast as well, but if she did nothing there was no telling what the templars would do.

            The captain strode forward confidently, lazily shifting his blade to the side of my neck. “Stand down, now.”

            Bethany waiver for only a moment and chanced a glance behind her. Isabela and Merrill were too far gone. In that split second, the shield users rushed her catching her off guard and canceling out her magic once more. A hard bash from an incoming shield sent her stumbling to the ground weakly.

            “Bastards! Leave her alone!” I struggled futilely as they all but ignored me. Soon they slapped manacles on our wrists and hoisted us to our feet.

            “For your sins against the Maker, by the authority of the Templar Order and the Knight-Commander, we are hereby transferring you to the Gallows where you shall await sentencing.” The captain recited emotionlessly.

            They tugged our hoods down and removed our masks. My heart raged against my chest, Bethany’s face paled with dread. They knew our faces, even if we did manage to escape they could still find us.

            That realization didn’t stop me from trying to escape. If they knew us, then I’d just have to get rid of them before they could ever tell anyone about us. In a last-ditch effort, I whipped around in the templar’s grasp hoping to bite him or kick or something, but he was a statue made of iron plate. I couldn’t even see his face beyond the shadow of his helm.

            “Maker,” he effortlessly pushed me to the ground. “We got ourselves a live one here.” Time stopped as a pointed kick to my chest took my breath away.

            “Isaac!” Bethany shouted from miles away. Why’d she use my real name? Didn’t she understand how foolish that was, I thought uselessly.

            There must have been another kick, because my vision started to go foggy and things were making less sense. More pain followed. Dull and unyielding. Then it cooled for a moment, and I swear before everything went black I felt something warm on my lips. It tasted salty. My eyes blinked open for just a moment as I saw Bethany before me, tears streaking down her face.

            “I’m sorry!” was all she could say between choking sobs before she was pulled away. Then the world fell away and darkness consumed me.

 


	22. Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for releasing this chapter a day late--there was a lot going on--but don't worry I plan on keeping the schedule tight for the foreseeable future.
> 
> I mentioned in a previous note that I was considering taking every third Monday off and now I'm confirming it. That break in the schedule allows me to stockpile chapters and keeps me from burning out. So from now on that will be the update schedule.

            It was cold and dark when I awoke. Sea water splashed through a nearby grate causing me to startle. Quickly, I found that my hands were bound before me in heavy iron manacles. I thanked the Maker they weren’t connected to the wall or had me dangling from the ceiling. It was a small blessing in Hell.

            When my eyes adjusted my initial theory was proven true: I was in a dungeon. If trusting my gut was worth a damn, I’d say it was in the Gallows. The proximity to the ocean only added credence to that presumption. I shambled up to the grated window with some difficulty. Pleasantly surprised to discover that my wounds had been treated to some extent, movement was possible but a few bandages and some ointment were no substitute for magical healing.

            I lifted myself up as far as I could with my injuries and peered out. Waves crashed against the base of the building, occasionally reaching high enough to spill inside. The sky was clear now, revealing a Cheshire-smiling moon shining smugly above. It was very late at night, breaching on early morning.

            I turned and slumped against the cool stones. I didn’t want to think about what happened. Didn’t want to care or feel. I didn’t want any of it. I wanted to deny what had happened. To pretend it as all a dream, because that would mean I could wake up, right? Nightmares always end when you wake up don’t they?

            But, so do dreams.

            I gripped a cut on my arm, pressing into it until the bandage began to run red anew. Screaming, trying to take control of my pain rather than be controlled by it. But nothing worked. I shouted and howled and hissed in pain, but not from the bleeding or the bruising. No, for all my attempts I couldn’t hurt myself worse than the knowledge of how I failed hurt.

            Ander, Fenris, Varric, Hawke, they all died meaningless deaths in some unknown hole in the ground all in the name of protecting Leandra and Bethany. And what did that fucking do for anyone? And what did I do? I walked Bethany to her doom. Fully aware of the stakes at play, I walked her down that aisle and gave her away to Death.

            Or worse. Tranquility. Nothing in this world was worse than erasing Bethany Hawke from it but leaving behind a husk of her would be reprehensible.

            I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t get warm. All I could do was gasp like a fish out of water as my body tried to cry or sob or scream all at once. I was suffocating.

            I thought I understood guilt and grief after what happened with Finch, but I was so wrong. Nothing could have prepared me to lose Bethany. And I realized in that moment, how undauntingly and irrevocably in love with her I was. Hindsight’s a real bitch.

            She was kind and brave and determined. When she tried to put on a face, her eyes always betrayed her true thoughts. Those warm amber eyes…like everything about her they always seemed to glow.

            And she was stubborn, so beautifully so. She never shied away from doing the right thing. She’d made sacrifices in her life and had don’t what needed to be done, but it never sullied her. Never made a cynic of her. She suffered loss and trauma in her life and had come out the other end stronger.

            And she was never meant to be caged.

            I don’t know how long it was before I calmed down, nor do I know how long I sat before a templar came to remove me from my cell. Truth be told, I just didn’t care anymore. I was becoming numb to it all.

            When they sat me down for the first interrogation, I didn’t say anything at all. I barely registered what was going on until the first slap landed on my cheek. I looked at the templar who struck me with the eyes of a dead man and she seemed to waiver. Then I threw my head back as I slumped in the chair. I sat like that for a long time before they decided to put me back in the cell.

            The next week was much of the same. “Who was the blood mage?” “Where can we find them?” “How many other mages are you harboring?” I never spoke a word. Occasionally my mind came up with clever responses or otherworldly quotes and references no one would understand, but I just didn’t see any point in uttering them. I didn’t see a point in anything anymore.

            They never got too rough with me, surprisingly enough, and they made sure to feed me daily and have someone change my bandages. They were making efforts to sustain me, but I felt like I was dying. Or maybe I just wished I was.

            Near the middle of the second week the bars squeaked open and a familiar voice broke the silence. “Maker…Can you get those off him?” I rolled my head on my shoulders, not quite believing my ears. A templar block my view as he unlocked the manacles, my wrists underneath were red and raw. My eyes began to sting as I finally saw the face of my visitor. “C’mon, let’s get you out of here, Showman.” Varric smiled gently as he pulled me to my feet.

            He was alive! He…somehow, he’d made it back. “Varric?” my voice cracked pitifully from disuse.

            “Yeah, it’s me buddy. Let’s get you a drink, huh? Fill you in on what’s been happening.” He walked me passed some perturbed looking templars and out into the light of day. I recoiled slightly from the brightness. The pungent smell of the sea filled the air around me still.

            We didn’t speak on the boat ride back to the mainland, but it wasn’t for lack of questions. Actually, it was the opposite. Too many questioned swarmed my mind. Too many things I needed to know. Too many sensitive things I didn’t want to say in front of anyone in the Gallows.

            So I waited, until we docked, until we made it all the way back to Varric’s room in The Hanged man. When he pushed the door open, everyone was there. Fenris, Anders, Hawke…Everyone, except Bethany.

* * *

 

            “So, when did you get back?” I finally croaked out after filling myself on a plate set before me. I felt heavy, exhausted, but I needed to find out what happened.

            “Just under a week ago.” Anders responded.

            “Fuck,” I choked out a bitter laugh. “What took you so long?”

            “Bartrand.” Varric explained. His traitor of a brother trapped them within the Thaig taking a valuable artifact for himself. They had no other recourse but to find another exit, one that spit them out miles from the city.

            They told me about what they experienced down there: the darkspawn, demons, finding the strange idol, and finally a pile of gold that easily recouped their losses. I listened to the part of their victory with little interest. They escaped with their lives and their fortune, Hawke had secured the deed to his mother’s ancestral home, but that didn’t change the fact that Bethany…

            “Congrats.” I responded with not even the slightest speck of feeling.

            “And Bethany…” Hawke started.

            I felt like a knife twisted in my gut. I hid my face from the shame of failing her and her brother.

            “She’s ok.” Hawke finished though he seemed strained to utter the words. My face shot up, eyes wide. His hands were folded tightly in front of his face “I had a feeling you didn’t know what happened. She’s in the circle, but she’s still herself. They haven’t made her tranquil or anything like that. She’s as safe as she could be given the circumstances.”

            I was stunned beyond words. Finally, I managed to ask, “How?”

            “That would be my handiwork,” Varric winked. “I have my connections to the Merchant’s Guild and they have connection to everyone. I pulled a few strings and rewrote a few stories and managed to get our dear Sunshine on the right side of the templars.”

            “Oh Isaac!” Suddenly Merrill bolted from her seat like she was holding herself down. Her arms wrapped around me and she buried her face on my shoulder. “I’m sorry we left you and Bethany behind, we thought you were right with us but when we turned around you were gone! We should have done more.”

            “Kitten no, if we’d stayed it would have only been worse.” Isabela put her hand on the elf’s shoulder. “They would have captured all of us and we’d all end up dead. This way, Varric’s retelling of events casts doubts that there ever was a blood mage with those two. Bethany’s in a much better position this way.”

            Isabela gave me a look, trying to prompt me to agree with her to ease Merrill’s guilt. I stared Isabela in the eye, my voice was wooden. “She’s right it’s better this way.”

            Hawke’s chair skid loudly as he stood to his feet and began pacing. “She’s allowed to write letters, and there are a few templars I’ve done some work for in the past that owe me. We won’t be allowed to see her, but we have people to make sure she’s ok.” Garrett sounded like he was talking to himself more than to anyone else.

            “Hawke, we could always try to break her out. I know some people who’ve escaped the gallows in the past. I could call on them for assistance.” Anders offered a gentle hand on his

shoulder.

            “And have her live the rest of her life even more on the run than it’s already been?” He slouched, placing his forehead in his hand. “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

            “I have to see her.” I said underneath Merrill, drawing all eyes in the room back over to me. “I’m going to see her.”

            “Woah, hold on there, Showman.” Varric blocked me as I stood to shake the elf off and leave. “You’re still injured, how about we have Blondie take care of you before you run off to storm the castle?”

            “No.” I pushed by him only to be stopped by Hawke. “Get out of the way, Garrett.”

            “So you can go get yourself killed and get Bethany into even greater trouble? I’m sorry, no. Sit down, shut up, and let the damn healer see to you!” His voice boomed authoritatively.

            The room was still as we stared each other down. Neither one of us wanting to give an inch, lest the other take a mile. Yet we both knew, we wanted the same thing. We just wanted to see her. We just wanted her to be safe.

            “Fine.” I stomped back to my seat and held my injured wrists out to Anders. I glowered like a petulant child.

            “For now, Bethany’s as safe as she can be.” Aveline decided to weigh in from her chair beside where Hawke once sat. “All we can do from this point on is keep an eye on her. She has people on her side within the circle. And she’s tough, she’ll be alright.”

            Bethany once told me Aveline was once married to a templar; she also told me that when he met her—though the blight had all but taken him—all he wanted to do upon meeting the Hawkes was take custody of Bethany. Aveline was certainly a reliable woman, but that didn’t mean she as always to be trusted. Especially if her taste in men was anything to go by.

            The glow of Anders’ magic was different, it was less warm. Like all magic it took hold on me quickly and healed me fully in under a few minutes. I was grateful for it, but it felt odd. foreign.

            “One of these days you’ll have to explain to me why magic has such a potent effect on you.” Anders’ muttered as his blue light faded.

            “Probably wouldn’t even if I could.” I gave him a sideways look.

            He looked at me disquieted for a moment before remarking, “malnutrition doesn’t suit you,” and pushing another plate of food in my direction.

            “Hey Anders,” I started.

            “Hm?”

            “Get in touch with one of your mage friends. One that escaped the Circle. I’m gonna need to know how to get in.”


	23. Deep End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the extremely late update (especially after promising to do better last chapter). Things got very busy lately and this chapter was giving me a lot of trouble to write. I'm much happier with it now, as the events make more sense than they did originally, but I recognize its not perfect. But at this point we need to keep moving. I want to get to act II.
> 
> Thanks for sticking around and never trust me when I say I'll be better with scheduling. Usually after I say that is when I go dark.
> 
> Enjoy.

            There was a blind spot on the southern side of the Gallows. It faced out onto the waking sea overlooking natural rock formations. In theory, the combination of jagged rock and tumultuous waves was all the defense that flank needed. Large boats could be seen coming from miles away through the high windows and anything smaller would be chewed by the surf before it managed to make berth. Though according to One of Anders’ sources there was a single path in the water clear of rocks and all but invisible to one who didn’t know to look for it.

            It took a couple of weeks for Anders to get the information to me. It gave me time to secure a small rowing boat seated for two. In that same time, Hawke had moved with his mother into the old Amell estate.

            Bethany wrote letters to each of us, letting us know how she was and how the circle was.  Apparently the templars only allowed one letter per day, I suspected it was so they had the time to read them before sending them out. Bethany must have had the same suspicion, or otherwise knew it to be true, as she wrote little and spoke vaguely about many details.

            My letter came the day after Hawke’s.

> Dear Isaac,
> 
> I hope this letter finds you well. I am fine and settling in well. They’ve given me a room overlooking the ocean that I share with another girl called Ella. She’s very sweet. Please tell my mother and brother not worry much. I’m sorry for how we parted ways, but brother tells me you’re alright and I thank the Maker for that.
> 
> Stay safe,
> 
> Bethany Hawke

 

            I wasn’t about to believe that she was alright until I saw her with my own eyes and since the Gallows wasn’t holding visiting hours I planned to make my own. In the dead of night, I rowed my small boat out towards the Gallows, keeping towards the and for cover as long as I reasonably could.

            It was dark. The moon lay shrouded by a sky of deep black clouds threatening the burst at any moment. It didn’t make locating the path between the shallows any easier, but my attention to detail ensured that I only scratch the sides rather than sinking myself outright. My fingers twitched in anticipation. The sky was moving faster than I was. My lip split as I gnawed on it anxiously. I hoped the downpour would wouldn’t start until after I got in and out.

            The dingy swayed unhelpfully as it traveled the choppy, rock encrusted perimeter of the Gallows. High above me I could see soft candle-light flickering in through some of the windows. It seemed another world away from where the convulsions of the sea tossed me about. Even in the dark I could see shadows from ledges on wall, small handholds from missing bricks or worn-down carvings from the time of Old Tevinter. Some were just gaping mouths silently screaming at their misfortune. I never paid much mind to the gruesome aesthetic of Kirkwall, but now it felt all-too appropriate and in bad taste simultaneously.

            The closer I got the more I could hear the subtle sounds of life, a boisterous laugh here, a dropped dish there. Under other circumstances it might have seemed commonplace. Then I would hear the marching of tin feet, the ambient ring of magic. The ungodly wail of wind against the stones. Maker, I hoped it was the wind.

            Rough shapes pressed into my body as I merged with the wall. To the side I could see one of the grated windows of the dungeons. I inhaled, hoping to prepare myself for whatever I might see inside. There was a slight form hunched in one corner, shoulders convulsing from what I could only assume was uncontrollable tears. I squinted to see the features better. Red hair. Not Bethany then. Silently I turned away, I didn’t need anymore trouble than I was already here for.

            I checked the other cells for good measure, most were empty, none held Bethany. I swallowed hard as I realized I’d have to scale the building. Vertigo nearly took me as I stared directly up. I’d need to be careful, so very careful. Climbing was never my specialty; especially not without a partner. And none of that mattered.

            I wiped the cold sweat from my head and faced out towards the water. Two breaths later and I was baring my feet and preparing to climb. The rocks felt cool to the touch with a hint of dampness from the sea spray. I cursed in my head as I started to pull myself up from one hold to the next. It was every bit as difficult as I’d imagined it would be; my muscled strained as I supported the whole of my weight against the bricks. I didn’t know if it was better to take breaks or just keep going, so that’s what I did. I didn’t stop.

            I nearly reached the sill when my fingers slipped. My arm whipped around threatening to wrench the other away from the wall and leave me plummeting to the earth. A roll of thunder was overtaken by the pounding of my heart in my ears.

            Hold on, hold on, just fucking hold the wall. I shouted in my head with all my mental force but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the shrieking pain tearing through my arm. My wounds from before had been healed but the new tissue was still pink and weak. I thought it might just rend apart all over again.

            The rain was getting closer now, I could see it over the horizon of the water. The thunder grew earth-shakingly loud. Inhaling sharply, I knew I had one shot and through the pain began rocking myself side to side to build up momentum.

            Once…twice…now! I launched myself up to the windowsill in a reckless effort. Landing with a hard slap against the stone I managed to barely catch myself by the tips of my fingers. I didn’t even give myself time to think about how stupid it was. Determined to keep up the momentum, I raced my feet up the side and pushed myself to the window touching the cold pane just as the first drops of water began to fall overhead.

            I pushed my head toward the glass as I kneeled forward, chest heaving, trying to recompose myself. When I remembered what I was doing, my head shot up in a panic to see if there was anyone in the room. It was dark, but from a light in a hallway I could make out the shapes of a bunk bed and a couple of dressers. Just in front of the window was a simple desk neatly covered in writing utensils and papers. Some were crumpled into tight balls, presumably because they just didn’t come out right. The stub of a well-used candle sat cold off to one side.

            I pressed in closer as a slight shifting movement caught my eyes. There was someone, or something, huddled under a blanket in the lower bunk. Curled fingers clenched the cloth in a bone-white grip.

            A face filled the window. I nearly lost my balance as the apparition confronted me, its palms glowing softly. As recognition flooded the eyes, the glowing changed becoming warmer.

            The specter in the glass was Bethany, her face pale in the glow of her magic. Her eyes lightened and began to shimmer. She said something breathlessly, something I couldn’t make out over the roll of thunder. She opened the latch to the window with a nervous energy, one I mimicked as I scrambled my way inside. She cleared the desk as I vaulted over, the candle was slapped to the floor, but the crumpled papers made their way to the pockets of Bethany’s gown. When I finally stood on solid ground, I stared at her for only a moment before we threw our arms around each other in a stone embrace. I felt her breath on my scarred ear, warm, real.

            “Bethy.” I breathed, so relieved to find her in one piece. For a moment I forgot the world. I forgot where we stood. I even forgot the figure huddled on the bed not five feet away. Because in that moment all my fears and doubts didn’t matter; she was right in front of me. She was real.

            After what very well might have been eternity, Bethany broke the embrace. Her eyes were still glassy as she smiled. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

            “Well you know me, always subverting expectations.” I tried to laugh as I felt my own eyes beginning to gloss over. “C’mon, grab your stuff. I’m getting you out of here.” I squeezed her hands but felt them grow limp in my grasp.

            A sigh escaped her lips as her brows knit together. “Isaac, I’m sorry. I’m not leaving.”

            My heart stopped; my mouth tasted sour as I spoke. “What do you mean? If this is about your phylactery don’t worry. Anders told me all about it. I can just sneak down to the basement or wherever they keep it and destroy it. They won’t be able to find us.”

            “No Isaac,” she leaned her hand against the desk, her eyes locking towards the storm outside. “It’s not that. It’s…I’m tired. I don’t want to spend any more of my life running away.”  a small flame ignited in her palm as she lifted it towards her face. “All my life, I’ve been afraid of my magic, of what it meant if it were ever discovered. Of what would happen to me, or my family. I was borderline paranoid.” Another palm supped the flamed as she looked back toward me; her eyes were no longer glassy. “And now the worst has happened and…It isn’t so bad.”

            “Bethany, it’s the circle; how can it not be bad?”

            “Most of the templars are decent people. After I finished my Harrowing, they accepted me as a senior enchanter. Once they knew I could control my magic they realized I’m not a threat, I realized they aren’t either.”

            “Most,” I fixated in the word. “Most of them are decent? What about the ones that aren’t?”

            “I lived in lowtown for a year. I know how to avoid creeps.” She gave me a smile that was meant to be reassuring. I didn’t want to be reassured. I think she could sense that, so she stepped closer and placed a hand on my cheek. The flame in her hand replaced with a warm amber glow. I felt the stinging in my hands lessen and disappear. The muscles in my arm relaxed. “Please understand, I don’t want to run away anymore. Mother and brother just got the family estate back, I don’t want to risk their happiness for some selfish fantasy.”

            I opened my mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. I came here with my own selfish fantasy ignorant of anyone else’s happiness.

            “I don’t have to hide my magic here. I don’t have to run or lie. There’s freedom in that.”

            “I don’t want to lose you.” Unconsciously my hand found hers.

            “I’m right here.” Now she was crying, small streams that couldn’t be held back any longer. They mirrored my own tears, salty and bittersweet.

            She couldn’t come with me, and I couldn’t stay. And not a single part of me could tell her she was wrong for it. That was the most painful part: I understood why she wanted to stay and for the life of me I couldn’t fault her over it.

            “Bethany?” A slight voice called from the darkness causing me to whip into a defensive pose.

            Bethany placed a hand on my arm reassuringly. As she walked towards the mound of blankets she wiped her eyes. “It’s ok Ella. Go back to sleep. This is Isaac. He’s a friend.”

            Ella’s voice was that of a young girl, frightened and timid. “Is he going to take you away?”

            “No.” I said before Bethany had a chance to respond. And my heart sank a little as I knew it was true. “No, I won’t do that.” I addressed Bethany again. “But I’m not just going to leave you here either. I’ll come tomorrow night and the night after and any other night you need me. I’ll be here for you Bethy. I won’t leave you behind.”

            Smiling, she stood to face me and before I knew it her lips were on mine, gentle and soft. Her arms threaded around my neck and my hands found her waist. Where before my heart had sunken, now it rose to meet hers. Once again, the outside world didn’t exist, time didn’t exist. There was just us, just that moment and even though we were in the worst-case scenario, I couldn’t have been happier.

            When we finally drew apart, she whispered into my good ear. “And I'll be here for you.” She looked at me with her confident amber eyes and I couldn't help but stop worrying.


	24. Let's Be Still

            “I thought Ruvena was on patrol tonight?” I said to the back of an iron clad figure.

            Keran spun in a startle circle, nearly dropping his sword as he moved. “Maker, Isaac! Don’t do that to me.” I had come to know the young Templar fairly well in the months that Bethany lived in the Gallows. Apparently, he had become friends with Hawke and the rest of them after they saved him from the possession of a blood mage. When I was first introduced to him I didn’t think much of him, but as I came to know him better he grew on me.

            “No, well yes.” He struggled to put his blade away. “She’s switched with me for the next few evenings. She’s on furlough so she can attend her brother’s wedding in Highever.”

            “Oh, and she didn’t ask you to go along. Such a shame.” I tilted my head against one of the many statues in the Gallows’ courtyard. The figure’s cast shadows helped hide my presence from unwanted attention. But it was late, and many who should be on guard were fast asleep at their posts.

            Keran pulled his helmet away away to reveal a slightly pink face. “It wouldn’t be practical, one of us had to stay and patrol.”

            I nodded mockingly. “Good job of it by the way.” I stepped to the side closer to him, but still remaining in darkness. “You know, there’s probably still time. You could ride out gallantly and take the first ship over. Sweep her off your feet. I hear women appreciate those kinds of romantic gestures.

            A beet red face was soon recovered by the tin bucket. “Are you here for Bethany or just to annoy me?”

            I chuckled at the man’s discomfort. “Well, why can’t it be both?”

            “Because you were expecting Ruvena.” He retorted.

            “True, but I’m not the kind of man to pass up a good opportunity when I see it.”

            “You’d think that a man courting a mage residing the Gallows would take more heed to respect the Templars who would help him see said mage.”

            “One would think that, yes.” I deadpanned.

            A long sigh echoed out from the stiff helmet. “So how does Ru usually get you in?”

            “First we wait For Beth’s signal.” I fished out my amber glow stone from my jackets inside pocket. It took a few minutes, but eventually the glow dimmed until the stone was black, then it flashed two times before returning to its natural state. “Ok, two flashes mean that Clovia is walking the upper Halls tonight, so we can go through the kitchens and take the western stairs. Clovia usually spends her evenings with Solomon in the East wing.”

            “Wait, Clovia and Enchanter Solomon? How long have those two been fooling around?”

            I raised an eyebrow. “Since before old Sol was brought to the Circle. Don’t you pay any attention to what goes on in there?”

            “I, well…” He stuttered. Keran was surprisingly pure-hearted I had come to learn. “The affairs of senior templars are none of my concern.”

            “Yes, but until you’ve any affairs of your own to speak of we’ll need something to talk about.” I flashed an evil grin. “Want to know who Enchanter Morva is screwing?”

            “Maker no! That woman is older than my grandmother. I don’t need any imahges of tht in my mind. Just…Let’s get you inside so you can get out of my hair.”

            “I will miss those fair locks.”

            “Just don’t get caught.” Keran unlocked the kitchens for me, I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d already made duplicate keys of nearly every lock in the complex. I only needed the First Enchanter’s bedroom key and the one to the Knight Commander’s office and I’d have a full collection.

            “Don’t worry, if they get me, I’ll tell them you let me in.”

            He shook his head again, tired of my many antics. “Tell Hawke and them I said hello when you see them next.”

            “Will do, and Keran? Thanks.” I closed the door behind me and made my way through the dark halls.

* * *

 

            “I come bearing gifts.” I announced as I entered Bethany and Ella’s room. My knapsack hit the ground with a thud as I swung it from around my shoulder.

            “Isaac!” Ella was the first to greet me, hugging me before I had a chance to fully stand up after setting down my things. “You came!”

            “Of course, not every day a girl turns thirteen!”

            When Ella let go, Bethany took her place iny my arms. “You didn’t have any trouble?”

            “No, the only thing I wasn’t expecting was Keran instead of Ru in the courtyard, but that’s not a problem. That was better if anything.”

            Bethany’s lips met mine in a quick kiss. “Don’t torture him too much, he might grow tired of helping us.”

            “What me? Torture? No, you’ve got it all wrong. We just play around is all.” I flashed a cheeky grin. “Besides he’s way too invested in our relationship to stop helping.”

            “Well thank the maker for that.” She squeezed my hand.

            Ella cleared her throat and gave the two of us a sassy look. I could hardly believe she was the same girl I first met cowering under the covers all those months ago.

            “Ah, yes. But this is Ella’s night! So, let’s see what I’ve brought you tonight!” I fished out a small leather journal with simple binding. It was fairly thin with some ink stains along the cover, but the pages inside were otherworldly. Each page was covered in detailed illustrations of landscapes and castles and animals of all shapes and sizes. Some were familiar, the Tree in the Alienage, sunset over the Wounded coast, but other were scenes from worlds away.

            Ella’s eyes lit up as she turned the pages taking in every drawing and marveling at the craftsman ship. “Wow! I love it! Wherever did you find it?”

            “There’s an artist who lives in Darktown, she can draw anything if you describe it well enough. And I’m full of stories.” I winked.

            A quick fierce hug and then Ella bounded off to her bed and buried herself in the book. Leaving Bethany and I to our own devices. “I got you something too.” I reached into my bag for a slip of velum roll and tied with a string.

            Bethany opened the scroll and gasped as she saw the drawing. “Isaac, this is…How? It’s amazing.” It was a portrait of her family, all of her family, standing by the fire in the Amell estate. Her mother and father sat in front, his hands over hers. Behind them all three of the Hawke siblings stood. Garrett in the center and the twins flanking him.

            “Agathine, the artist, I introduced her to your brother and he and your mother posed for the drawing. They worked with some old portraits and descriptions to get the rest. How’d she do?”

            Bethany’s eyes shimmered as her smile doubled in size. Nearly tackling me to the floor, she threw her arms around me in a vice. “Thank you.”


	25. All In

            Bethany was finding her place within the Gallows. She told me about the different fraternities that assembled among the mages, and while she chose not to join any she found many likeminded individuals among them. There was Gareth, an elven mage who aligned himself with the Isolationists, who valued knowledge over all else and took a liking to Bethany. Apparently, he was particularly skilled in elemental magics and helped her refine her abilities. Among the Aequitarians was a mage by the name of Lily who was in her later years and who taught the healing arts to the apprentices. She was also quite adept in brewing a particularly strong hooch, so much so that the drink was sought after by templar and mage alike.

            There were templars whom Bethany formed a pleasant rapport with as well. Keran and his group knew her before and continued to develop a friendship. They were usually a reliable source on confidence and compassion. Many of the Higher ranking templars didn’t interact with the mages, choosing instead to focus on breaking in new recruits and maintaining order. The Knight Captain was a decent man, according to Bethany, if a bit stern but he seemed to have people’s best interests at heart. She felt like he kept an eye on her on occasion but couldn’t quite place his intentions.

            The less savory officers didn’t make life in the Gallows easy, but the other mages helped Bethany learn how to stay on their less ugly sides. There was a quick sort of comradery built between most of the mages and those that were the exception were generally few and far between.

            Even with the harsher templars Bethany was thriving. She was learning new skills along with honing her existing ones. Some of which even proved to help the two of us communicate from afar.

            “Now, look at the stones in your palm.” Bethany instructed her young apprentice. The girl squinted as she tried to focus. Two identical runes had been etched on the surface. “Normally, when creating a rune, you would pour magic and lyrium into it as you drew your array. But the enchantment can be added later when necessary; the tradeoff is that the power of the rune is diminished. Above all, the funneling of magic requires focus. Be careful not to spill the Lyrium.” The senior enchanter handed the girl a lyrium potion showing her how to trace the line with a combination of the potion as well as hints of her own power through the engraving tool.

            I watched as the girl bit her lip as she focused. Lavender light seeped from her fingertips and mixed with the pale blue of the lyrium to reflect back periwinkle shimmering. The girl exhaled like she had been holding her breath the entire time. At the tail end of the breath the light faded until it settled subtly as a thin veil over the runes.

            “Did it work?” Ella turned the identical stones over in her palm.

            “Only one way to find out.” I prompted, holding my hands in front of myself inviting her to toss one of the runes. “Try one flash see what we can get.”

            “Ok.” Ella closed her eyes and held the remaining stone close to her chest. Bethany and I waited with baited breath as we stared at its twin in my own palm. First the color seemed to fade away, only to return stronger in a burst of purple light.

            “Ella you did it!” Bethany threw her arms over the girl who beamed with pride as she stared at my stone. She continued making it glow stronger and weaker for nearly an hour after the rune was completed, fascinated by her own creation.

            “So now you’ll know if I’m ever in trouble?” Ella asked me.

            “Yep. Bethany showed you our code, right? Well, now I’ll have your and Bethany’s runes with me always. That way if, you’re ever in danger you can let me know and I’ll come running.” I flashed both her and Bethany’s stones. The amber and purple light complemented one another nicely. “Just remember the most important message: Three short, three long, three short.”

            Ella nodded her head vigorously. “SOS.”

            “Exactly.” I smiled and ruffled her hair, making her retracted her head into her shoulders. She flailed her arms playfully at mine to get me to stop. “Make sure you practice the basic code and the shorthand. You can never be too careful.”

            “Gotcha!” Ella retreated to her bunk with her half of the pair and hunched in while sending me a host of secret messages. S…H..I..T…If Bethany knew I was teaching the girl swears when she wasn’t paying attention she’d be pissed.

            I restrained a laugh as I got her message and tapped my own stone to say, “Very funny.”

            “Isaac, did you find that leather worker I told you about?” Bethany asked as she gathered her implements and began putting them away.

            I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. “He seemed sketchy. I like him.”

            She leaned her head back and laughed sweetly. “Well, I hope he gave you a good estimate.”

            “Yeah, he said he could do it for pretty cheap and pretty quickly. I’m gonna bring him my stones tomorrow to get them fitted. I’ll bring yours over tomorrow night.”

            “Good, it’ll be a relief to have the message stones where we can see them. Just in case.”

            “Just in case,” I repeated as I kissed her cheek. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my purple stone flash one short and then one short and three long. “Ew.” _Cheeky brat_. I spun Bethany around and dipped her for a long and deep kissed only relenting when I heard an audible grown from the young teenager.

            “What was that about?” Bethany asked with a smile.

            “Two things: one, to bother your roommate and two, to kiss you.” I did it again.

* * *

 

            “Wrist.” The leather worker motioned for my hand gruffly. He jerked my arm toward him when I did as he asked. His coarse hands indelicate as they gripped me. He pulled a long strip of leather with equidistant notches around my wrist for measurement. As he released my wrist he said, “Sit tight,” and then went off to his table to work.

            The shop was covered in tools hanging on hooks and hide in various stages of processing. If you liked the smell of leather the place was a veritable heaven, though the same was true of the reverse. Personally, I liked it well enough though in such saturated concentration it was a bit much. I was about to step out when a familiar face stepped in.

            “Isaac.” Fenris sounded mildly surprised to see me.

            “Oh, hey Fenris. What brings you to the local Tanner? I thought the harder stuff was more up your alley.” I tapped a knuckled against his metal armor.

            “For combat purposes yes.” He stepped around me further into the shop. “But Hawke said I might find a sturdy journal here.”

            “Gerault makes books?”

            “That I do.” Gerault the leathersmith called from his work table. “I keep ‘em in back so the hooligans don’t get their grubby paws on the paper.”

            “You never cease to surprise, Serah.” I said, only to receive a grunt in response.

            “When you have a moment, I’d love to see your stock.” Fenris spoke up.

            Gerault looked Fenris up and down before setting his tools down. “I’ll get them now. Think I Have something you’ll appreciate.” He stepped off into a back room leaving my project unfinished and unattended.

            “So, what’s sudden interest in journals? You starting a diary? Or are you going to start writing ‘friend fiction’ like Isabella?” I turned to Fenris. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you with a book.”

            “It would have been rather useless for me.” His head dipped away from me slightly. “Hawke is teaching me to read. The journal is so I can practice writing.”

            “Oh, shit I didn’t know that. Sorry if I sounded like an ass.”

            “You always do.”

            “Ouch, fair. But it’s nice that Hawke’s helping you learn.”

            A contemplative smile stretched across his lips. “Yes, it is.”

            For a moment, I almost swore I saw something of a twinkle in the elf’s eyes. Before I had a chance to address it Gerault returned with a small stack of leather bound books. He spread them over the work table. They were intricately designed and sturdily bound. One in particular caught my eye. It had a circular design with interlocking beams woven like a Celtic knot. At the very center was an open hand with an eye resting in the palm.

            I picked the book up just as Fenris chose his. “How much?” Fenris beat me to the punch. The book he held was of a layered black leather that almost seemed to mimic his armor. The spine of the book was shaped like a sleeping dragon curling its head and neck over the front and back cover.

            “Ten silver each.” Gerault replied. Fenris handed over the coin almost immediately, but I was a bit hesitant. Years of penny pinching had turned me into somewhat of a miser but thinking about my old journal with the fraying spine and loose binding forced my hand into my pouch. It was good to have, I told myself, more than ever I had things I didn’t want to forget.

            “What’s ten silver in the scheme of things.”


	26. Beautiful Undone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one...this one gets dark. Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

            “I must say, Showman, I like what you’ve done with the place. Maybe we should have you fix up Broody’s place.” Varric remarked as I showed off my newly renovated loft. It took months of physical labor in addition to weeks of negotiating with the port master, but I was finally no longer a squatter. For the first time in my life, I owned the place I called home. It was…a good feeling.

            “I think that might be a lost cause at this point. Plus, I hear Fenris has all the wine stains exactly where he wants them.” I smirked as I sank into a nearby chair.

            “You have to enjoy the little things.” Fenris remarked blandly as he stepped through the threshold. Hawke was close behind in tow.

            “Well, if we can’t break wine bottles in the comfort of our own homes, where can we?” Garrett tapped the elf with a playful elbow who responded with a wry smile.

            “So, what made you want to start paying for this place anyway? Seems to me like you had a good thing going. No rent, no noisy roommates.” Isabela pulled some mugs from a high shelf in what became the kitchen and proceeded to fill them with a small bottle of liquor she smuggled in.

            I stole the mug from her hand and took a swig. It was strong. “I wanted a place that was mine. Plus, if I started to fix the place up before I owned it people would start to take interest in the place again. Then all my hard work would have been for nothing.”

            Isabela shrugged as she went back to one of her favorite pastimes: snooping. Unfortunately for her, when I fixed the floors I added a secret compartment for any and all of my valuables. The only thing she had to find was the journal I had bought the day before, though its pages were still blank.

            The renovations weren’t anything fancy, but they were a huge improvement from the soggy and rotten wood the place was known for. It was functional and I was proud of it. For the first time in my life I saw something I wanted to change and I did it. I just wished I could show Bethany in person.

            “Hm, not bad Isaac.” Agathine said as she unceremoniously let herself in. She had a bag full of her drawing supplies slung around her shoulder.

            “Ha, thanks Aggs. Glad you could make it to the revel party.” I gave her a friendly hug as she entered. We had become somewhat close in recent months. I had her do numerous drawings for Beth and Ella and when word spread in the Gallows—as it is want to do—more mages sought Bethany out on commissions of their home towns or vivid memories of their childhoods. I got the Felling Agathine liked me as a person, but she loved the money I brought her way.

            “Oh, you haven’t met everyone yet have you?” I introduced her around the room to my friends and they greeted her warmly. She became particularly fascinated with Merrill on account of all her intricate tattoos, it was only a matter of minutes before she asked the elf to pose for a sketch. Her humor went over well with my friends and I was surprised to see how coolly she handled Isabela’s request for dirty pictures.

            “Twenty silver for partial, thirty-five for full.” She said mildly.

            “Oh, can they be of anyone?” The pirate was intrigued.

            “Anyone I’ve seen or you can describe with enough detail.”

            “We are going to have so much fun.” Isabela emphasized each word individually. “This is really going to step up the quality of my friend fiction!”

            They all seemed to hit it off well and I was glad. Most of my friends I had met through Hawke, it was nice to bring someone into the fold for once.

 

            Two years passed since Bethany was first taken to the Gallows. Two more birthdays for Ella, too few changes for any of us to break our routines. Hawke’s reputation continued to grow and he even started to win over the Nobles of the city. On more than one occasion the Viscount himself called on Garrett for favors and jobs. We were always employed, jobs came in from every corner of Kirkwall. It wasn’t always easy, we suffered personal tragedies, like what happened with Varric’s brother or the continued alienation of Merrill from her clan, but we stuck through together.

            We were comfortable, happy even; but if I’ve said it once I’ve said it a million times: the Maker has a sense of humor. More often than not, a morbid one.

* * *

 

            I wish I could say it all happened so fast, that I didn’t have time to react or even act in the first place, but the truth of the matter was that it was slow. Agonizingly slow. Torturously slow. Slow enough for me to understand fully what was happening as it happened yet still leaving me powerless to act. So slow, that I couldn’t have been more aware of my powerlessness if our roles were reversed.

            Leandra was walking the Lowtown Markets alone. I didn’t think much of it. It was still earlier enough in the day for it to be safe and she was a grown woman with her own business. I would have left then and there if I hadn’t seen him collapse onto her shoulder.

            “Leandra!” I jogged to her side, semi-casually with a hint of apprehension. It was equally likely that the man was either trying to pick her pocket or was actually injured. I got my answer when I saw the blood begin to drop.

            The man huffed gutturally before flashing his eyes back up at me. “We’re just fine here. We don’t need any interlopers!” With a flick of his fingers my whole body seized up. Suddenly my movements weren’t my own. The man’s head turned like a curious animal. Still leaning over Leandra, he leaned his body closer to mine. “Lift out your hand, boy.”

            My hand raised toward him. I want to grab him, thrown him to the ground, anything to get him away from Leandra Hawke, but something in my blood and bones stayed obediantly. It was as if my sinews were connected by a thread that this man controlled. I couldn’t see Leandra’s eyes, my own were trained obediently on the strange man before me, but I suspected she was feeling much the same I was.

            A firm grasp and sharp slice met my outstretched arm as the man grabbed me in a mock greeting; a sudden wetness down my palm spoke of his hidden blade. Once again, my blood was in the possession of a mage. His eyes lit up as he felt the power of my blood channel his abilities. It caught his breath like a hit of heroin and seemed to give him the same bouts of euphoria.

            Titling his face back at me his lips stretched apart to reveal a putrid set of yellow, mismatched teeth. “Well, look at you the Maker must have sent you down to me. Help us along, boy.” I was screaming at him, cursing his very being and threating him within an inch of his life; only my body seemed to disagree. It found the man very reasonable, his word absolute, and it complied.

            The disconnect was infuriating. If I wanted left and he said right I would follow even if it led me straight off a cliff. My mind the only part of me still under my own control. All else surrendered to this man’s influence.

            My arm was directed around the mage’s shoulder. On his other side I caught a glimpse of Leadra; I knew by feel alone that even my expression was being restrained by the mage but that wasn’t the case for her. Terror. Her eyes were made of pure terror and fear; only made worse by my involuntary stone expression as we carried the Blood mage through town.

            It was an eternity, dragging  the man through Lowtown. There were people on the streets, ignorant, blind people and we pushed through like they were ghosts. I felt pickpockets go for us as we moved. I pray that just one of them would see the blood, that just one of them had enough heart to tell a guard. But no one did. Each step stripped away as much of my personal affects as it did my sanity.

            _Just notice._

_Please just see what’s going on._

_Please._

_Please._

_Please!_

            It was too late. A heavy wooden door slammed shut behind us locking us in utter darkness. The place smelled of wood and rot and the overwhelming stench of iron. I couldn’t see them but I heard the distinct sound of rats scurrying about the floor.

            “Let me be boy.” The blood mage swatted his hands at me as I retracted my arm. He caught it in a moment as pressed hard on the cut he made before.  Barely a moment later the blood pooled in his hands and began to glow a dark blue color. Once again, I could see Leandra’s eyes, the frustration was almost enough to kill me.

            “Oh, let me look at you my dear.” Leandra’s head was pulled towards those horrible teeth. He wailed in pleasure. “Oh! I have looked so long to find you, my dear wife. Your face eluded me for almost too long, but all love stories do have happy endings!” He smiled as he held her, as if the two of us weren’t under the thrall of his blood magic. “Come, we have been parted for far too long.”

            In the light of my blood I could see where we were now a long dead foundry. Its heavy crucibles lay cold and abandoned; I had a terrible feeling those weren’t the only dead things we’d find.

            The blood mage led us further into the building; up a flight of stairs and then down again through a hidden passage under the floor boards. The stench worsened when we opened the hatch. The metallic stench was not one familiar to that of a foundry it was the kind found in blood and corpses. The man didn’t seem to care in the least, he was far too busy fawning over Leandra. Or rather, her face.

            Soon we no longer needed to use my blood to light up the area; brightly burning sconces lit up the tunnels beneath. The more I could see the more I wished I couldn’t. There were pieces of bodies everywhere, many reduced to skeletons or glorified mummies while others were strangely well preserved. The worst of them was laying in a canopy bed in what seemed to be the man’s living quarters. It seemed to be a woman’s body but it was wrong, mismatched. As we drew closer I could see more clearly that she was missing her head and even more disturbing she seemed to be stitched together like some kind of horrible doll.

            “You see Leandra?” The man addressed her directly. “You are the final piece. You are the key to finishing my love story.” He gestured toward a painting hanging pristinely over a lit fireplace. My eyes followed his fingertips as if the movement alone was enough to command my attention. The portrait was of a woman who admittedly bore several strong resemblances to Leandra but was still so clearly different. But the mage couldn’t see those differences, all he saw was the “happy ending” to his own personal love story.

            “Lay her on the bed for me, boy, there is something I wish to test.” I did as he asked despite my mind raging at the very idea of listening to him. As I lay Leandra on her back I saw more in her eyes than fear. I saw the trademark Hawke determination; I suppose it was an Amell quality originally. She was fighting, pushing herself to move.

            “Yes, yes gently. Now hurry up and sit here.” He sat me on the edge of a heavy tabled stained with what I knew to be blood. And from there he began his tests. He poked and prodded and cut as he tried to figure me out, tried to suss out the source of my blood’s power. I’m not sure what his experiments gathered; he only spoke in fragments between writing in the margins of his books. Whatever the results, he was undoubtedly pleased.

            Every second was frustrating humiliation; I strained myself hoping my will alone would be enough to break the spell. That he might lose his hold over me as he focused so intently on his books but try as I did nothing worked. I felt eternity pass me by as I was trapped and gagged within my own body. I couldn’t even manage enough will to send a message to Bethany through my rune.

            _Maker, Bethany…Hawke would find us, right? He’d know his mother was gone, wouldn’t he? He’d get here before…He had to._

            “You, my boy, have set my work ahead by weeks, months even!” My eyes locked on the blood mage no matter where he moved, every muscle in my body submitted to him and every fiber of my being shrieked at that reality. “I’ve never felt such potent blood before. You may worth keeping around for raw materials alone. Tell me, what makes your blood so special?” He stood facing away from the bed Leandra was laid on. He was so focused on me that he failed to notice the shifting of bedsheets.

            “I don’t know.” My mouth moved on its own.

            He frowned petulantly. “Come now, you must have some inkling. Something that sets you apart from the rest of us.” A leg dipped over the edge of the bed, slowly as if ever slight movement was pained.

            “I’m not from here.” My pulse quickened as I watched Leandra try to escape out of the corner of my eyes.

            He scoffed. “Well neither am I, but I don’t think being a native of Kirkwall has anything to do with it. You’re not from Tevinter are you?”

            “No.” _That’s it, keep talking to me. Let Leandra get away, please!_

            He hummed his disappointment as he played with the scalpel-like blade in his hands. “Well, power is power regardless of where it comes from and I think it’s time we put your blood to the test.”

            Demons, he was talking about demons. Creatures of rage and misery were called from the fade to serve bound by my blood the same way I was. If I didn’t already know them as spiteful creatures in their own right I might have felt sympathy for them.

            Leadra stilled as the creatures began to coalesce from pools of sticky blood on the floor. She still wasn’t in complete control of her own body, he had to pull herself across the room by grabbing onto posts, bookshelves, anything to get her closer to the exit.

            _Go, find Garrett!_ My eyes were cemented ahead of me; my pulse drowned out all of the mage’s ramblings as it hammered in my ears. I watched in breathless horror as she struggled onward hoping beyond hope that she could get away before he caught her.

            A sudden crash dashed all those hopes as Leandra stumbled and knocked over several metal bowls and utensils. The mage spun on a swivel as soon as he heard the noise. “No, no, no! We haven’t finished yet! Just wait a little longer, then we can be together!” With a palm covered in my blood he redoubled his enchantment on Leadra, knocking her unconscious.

            He had me put her back on the bed. With a snap of his fingers his summoned demons vanished into the chadows and the embers of the fire, a hidden army waiting in the wings. He was done experimenting, done playing. It was time for him to go to work.

* * *

 

            Something no one ever seems to talk about is that magic has different flavors. Not in the way that different disciplines of magic differ from one another, but in the way one mage’s healing spell might feel different from another’s. For example, Anders’ magic is sharp, sterile; it slaps you up like a shot of vodka with a caffeine chaser. Bethany’s on the other hand is warm, gentle like a cup of fruit tea.

            Blood mages don’t have such variance in flavor, at least not the ones I’ve encountered. Their magic is sore like a punch to the gut, dull and pulsing. Their magic leaves you with a feeling of dry mouth, a discomfort that can’t be quenched no matter what. It’s the kind of sense that immediately triggers our fight or flight instincts. The only problem is it’s the kind of magic to ignore and negate those instincts. It paralyzes, penetrates, poisons the very fiber of your being and denies you your every resistance. It’s the kind of feeling that makes a person fear magic itself, fear mages.

            It’s the kind of magic that makes you want to die if only to escape it.

            I don’t know what Leandra felt as the maniac worked. I can’t imagine what she thought as he brought his saw against her neck. I barely know what was going through my mind. No, I just couldn’t bear to face it. As he motioned me over to the bed side to move her I couldn’t handle it. Couldn’t comprehend the betrayal of my own flesh. All I could do was retreat into myself. Hide. I willingly scraped away what remained of my resistance and with it my conscious thought.

            As he ordered me to move her, I killed my mind to save myself.


	27. Chuckle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry it's been so long. This little arc has just been giving me some trouble to get right. It's not perfect yet, but I need to focus on continuing the story. I want to see this through to the end.
> 
> Enjoy.

            There was fighting. Noises from down the hall tolled the end of countless demonic contracts. Reanimated bones bounced across the floors as the bodies were returned to their eternal slumber. I had been placed here as defense. One of the last lines before the intruders reached Him.

            My chest hurt. It felt like something had been hollowed out. Something was removed. I couldn’t remember what. I wonder if it was important?

            My legs swayed, unsteady and clumsy. But my grip was strong. My palms bit into the leather of the daggers handles. I was fighting. Of course I was fighting, He told me to. I did whatever He told me to. I was supposed to.

            There were four of them. I…almost remembered something…something to do with these people. Interlopers, He had called them. “Inconsequential” He said. But that was…wrong? No, it couldn’t be. I had my orders. The interlopers were my targets and I would fight them to my last breath. There were no other options.

            The tallest among them had a mop of messy dark hair and heavy metal armor. He looked confused as I joined the fray beside the summoned dead and demons. “Isaac?” he called out to no one in particular. I made use of his confusion to land a solid strike at his dominant hand. I jumped back as his shield pulled forward to compensate for the blow. He was built far more sturdily than I, but lacked my speed.

            A rush of wind slapped my cheek as a crossbow bolt whizzed by my ear; strange, I felt the wind but didn’t hear it. I’d have to compensate for that weakness. Raising my daggers to guard my face, I ducked behind two rage demons.

            “Showman! What the hell are you doing?” I could see who fired the bolt now; a beardless dwarf who looked at confused as the tall man held his crossbow in my direction still. He would be difficult to counter unless I managed to get closer.

            “His mind is not his own! He has become enthralled to another!” A blond man with blues veins of light cracking from beneath his skin shouted out. By the staff in his hands I guessed him to be a mage of some sort. “We will have to incapacitate him for now! There isn’t time!”

            An archer and a mage, they had me well out-paced and the man with the sword and shield was cutting through the demons as if they were paper. I realized too late that he was cutting a path for his other companion. The elf swung hard down on me with a sword nearly as long as he was tall and half as wide as his torso.

            “Snap out of this, Isaac!” He kicked my ankle out causing me to fall to my knee.  He was so much stronger than his sleight stature suggested. Incapable of speech, I snarled at him as I tried to maintain myself under the force of his swords. The elf’s brow furrowed deeper. “Forgive me for this.” Suddenly the force was released as he wound back. No sooner than I caught my balance, his foot caught my ribs and forced the blades from my hands. I skidded across the floor through the blood and soot.

            Coughing, I tried to stand and defend myself, but the elf was on top of me again. The last thing I saw before everything went dark was a shimmer of something in the elf’s large green eyes.

            I’m sure it was pity.

* * *

 

            My mouth tasted dry, stale, like I’d been asleep for too long. My chest rose as I sucked in a deep breath and shuddered as the bruises on my flesh and bone stretched. It was too much trouble to open my eyes; I just wanted to sleep. My head was fuzzy, I assumed the night before was a drunken montage of bar brawls and petty crime. Judging by the stale air Finch seemed to have gotten us back down to Darktown at least. I let my breath steady and my mind relax.

            The peace of mind didn’t last. My body shot forward as consciousness returned fully. Finch had been dead for nearly three years now and last night…last night. I nearly fell of the thin cot I rested on as I twisted over the side retching onto the floor. My whole body shook as I expelled bile and just enough blood to tint the whole mess pink.

            Before long I felt a cooling sensation flow through a careful palm between my shoulder blades. When the ringing in my ears subsided, I heard Anders as he tried to soothe me through my sickness. “Try and breath, there isn’t enough food in your stomach to come back up anyway.” As before, the healing magic he applied worked wonders banishing my pain near-instantaneously. It had no effect on the shakes that wracked me from head to toe.

            Anders tried to guide me back into a lying position, but I pushed against him. I didn’t want to be prone, I wanted to curl up like a pill bug but settled for sitting with my arms and shoulders hunched over my knees.

            “At least drink this then.” Anders held a seaming mug in front of my face. I hadn’t realized until I unclenched my hands to take the cup how hard I squeezed them. Little pink crescents lined my palms like expensive embroidery. “I’m warning you now: it won’t taste good but you still have to drink it all. Judging by the…mess I’d say your stomach’s pretty empty.”

            I didn’t glance up at him as I tried to down the drink in one go. It took every bit of willpower not vomit all over again as the bitter liquid burned its way down my throat. I managed to swallow about a third of it before having to break for air.

            “Told you.” Anders said as I made a face of disgust. “Keep drinking, just…try sipping it slowly this time ok?” I frowned, but obliged all the same. It didn’t make me feel noticeably better nor any worse. It would have been a feat in and of itself to feel worse.

            Despite the arcane first aid Anders applied, my head still pounded like I was sporting a crack to the skull and a hangover all at once. I remembered…details…things in bits and pieces. The blood mage…Leandra…pain. And anchor hung from the roof of my mouth and hung down low through the depths of my guts.

            “Leandra?” My voice was uncharacteristically quiet, hesitant. My head hung low, eyes transfixed on the dark surface of my drink. I was only distracted when a flash of blue light reflected on its surface. Finally, my head tilted up to see not the face of my friend, but the cold and angry spirit of Justice that inhabited him. A chill raced up my spine, I had only ever seen Justice evoked in the mage when he was in battle and never so close to myself.

            The light faded as quickly as it sparked to life as Anders regained control shaking his head. “We…we weren’t quick enough.” This time I knew the light reflecting in his eyes was his own, not the spirit. It was the glimmer of regret, of grief. I knew it well.

            “Oh.” Was all I could manage to muster as my head dropped. “Oh.” From far away I heard my ceramic mug shatter as it left my hands. My eyes were so heavy, breathing was so hard. I wanted to ask how, what had happened, why couldn’t I remember? But it was so hard to just keep breathing, so frustrating as the words left my lips as feral sounds instead of questions. I couldn’t unhinge my spine as I curled into myself. I didn’t even realize I was crying until the tears streaming down blurred out my vision.

            All I could think over and over was Leandra Hawke was dead. She was dead and it was my fault. I did this.

            I must have passed out again because time seemed to skip. Once more I was lying on my back staring up at the cold stone ceiling of the clinic. I could hear Anders talking to someone outside, I didn’t care enough to eavesdrop. Instinctively I rolled to my side and cupped my wrist hoping to feel the familiar stone infused with Bethany’s magic, but that too was gone. So was Ella’s; so was everything.

            “Showman, I know you’re awake.” Varric’s familiar hand rested on my shoulder. I didn’t turn to look at him. “Just when you’re ready to hear the whole story, I’ll be in the Hanged Man.” He placed something in my hand before he left, a small band of leather with an amber stone. I clutched it tight to my chest as I willed a message across to its partner.

            Dot dot. Dash dash. Dot dot dot. Dash dash dash. Dot dash dot. Dot dash dot. Dash dot dash dash.

* * *

 

            When my wounds were healed, I took Varric up on his offer to hear the whole story. Knowing didn’t help or soothe me any but I had to know. I wasn’t comforted knowing the blood mage was dead nor could I take any solace in the Dwarf’s insistence that it wasn’t my fault. Out loud I acknowledged that, but I could tell by the expression on his face that he didn’t believe me either.

            Most of my friends came to visit me before Anders officially discharged me, with the exception of Hawke who I bore no ill will for that. He was dealing with worse than I was, still I found it difficult to muster up the courage to see him. The others offered their words of comfort, most laying the blame on the mage or the blood magic itself. I suppose I should have appreciated those words but all I could think was how wrong they were.

            Bethany’s rune often flashed messages. She was grieving and lonely but I found it nearly impossible to respond with more that two or three words. Even so I couldn’t muster the strength to visit her in the Circle. If it was this hard to respond from a distance what could I manage face-to-face?

            When I finally worked up the nerve to visit Hawke it was only with Varric and Merrill hot on my heels. When we arrived, Fenris was already with him. From what I understood he was hanging around more and more.

            As soon as I crossed the threshold I wanted to turn back. The halls of the estate felt cold, empty. Hawke looked exhausted, his eyes were raw and hollow. He wore a practiced smile I could spot from a mile away. That’s the issue with someone so genuine, they can’t hide their true thoughts when they want.

            “Thanks for coming.” He greeted us just like he normally would. But try as he might he couldn’t force the sincerity. Varric did what he could to keep Hawke out of his own head. So, we drank, we played cards, and when the others came we drank more and played more. Nothing was ok by any stretch of the imagination, but in our alcohol induced fugue we could at least pretend.

            As the night wore on more and more of us passed out or fell asleep in different parts of the mansion. Isabella was the first one down, apparently, she had been pregaming pretty hard. I dozed off for maybe thirty minutes before waking to a sleeping household. Well, mostly sleeping.

            “You’re still up.” I commented as Hawke stared into the fireplace. He sat on the floor, a bottle of wine from Fenris’ store in one hand, the other hanging open draped over his knee. He didn’t respond other than a drunken shrug.

            “Isabella took my bed.” He took a swig.

            My skin itched as I stood beside the grieving man. I didn’t know what to say to him one-on-one. Didn’t know what I had the right to say. All the same I had to say something. “Hawke…about what happened…”

            He held up an open palm without turning towards me. “No. I don’t want to fucking talk about it.” He took another big gulp.

            My pulse quickened. “I just…I’m sorry, I- “

            “I said I don’t want to hear it!” Hawke raised his voice, still refusing to look at me. What kind of face was he making now? Did I even want to know? “You’re sorry, I’m sorry, everyone’s sorry. Well it doesn’t mean shit.” His words were starting to slur but that didn’t deter the intensity with which he spoke. “Is this how it’s going to be from now on? People pitying me all day long, telling me it shouldn’t have happened? I bloody know it shouldn’t have happened!”

            My heart pounded in my chest like a string of firecrackers and yet still I felt too cold. I was at a loss for words. Nothing was coming out right.

            Hawke continued on his tirade. “All this influence, all my connections and what do they mean? I couldn’t keep Carver safe, couldn’t keep Bethany out of the Circle, and now I couldn’t—couldn’t…” He didn’t finish the thought; I could hear gentle sobbing even as he covered his face in his free hand.

            After a minute of my awkward hovering, Hawke uncovered his face and turned towards me. I had never known he could look so broken. “Just, go away Isaac. Just go away.” Was all he said before turning back to his bottle.

            With two daggers stung through me, one in the gut and one through the heart, I granted his wish and left his sight. There was a small bench in his foyer, before I left the estate I unwrapped Bethany’s rune from my wrist and laid it gently on the finished wood. She would need someone to be there for her, and I couldn’t be that person anymore. I flashed one last “I’m sorry” through the bracelet not knowing if she’d even see it before I vanished into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaac's message to Bethany in Morse code: "I'm sorry"

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading.  
> Hope you enjoyed and have a wonderful day.  
> :)


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